An old Friend
The ice blue sky
lifts higher still.
The relentless southerly wind
shifts the autumn air,
like the slipstream from
a Formula 1 racing car
or a passing logging truck,
turning the leaves into glorious fashion statements
with vivid reds, bright yellows, but also
stripping the warmth and insulation
from our cosy summer bay.
Snow, fresh and pristine white,
sits on the nearby mountain tops
like an old friend
dropping by for a cup of tea.
It is only when you get close up that
you realise;
first appearances can be deceptive
and your face recognition technology
has let you down badly.
Too late! This is no friend
the bite and scratch of ice and frost
are hiding behind
the veil of white.
Winter sneaks down from the tops for an early visit.
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Hi, thanks for reading my poetry and thanks for your comment.