I see nothing left but berries
On the chinaberry tree next door.
The moon, so full a day ago,
Hides behind black clouds,
Leaving the yard dark.
It’s cold for Texas,
A freeze in the forecast,
Birds and squirrels tucked away.
Tomorrow I’ll be laying plans
For picking out the tender plants
And storing them for winter.
Tonight it’s me that’s seeking shelter,
Pursuing dreams of cozy nooks, good books,
Crackling fires reflected on the floor.
©2017 John I. Blair, 12/5/2017