by Neal Whitman & Amelia Fielden

fall is defunct
emails a Russian relative ---
where I live
her crevice of dawn
portends short, dark days

long evenings
of comfort food and reading
in winter
we met, courted in spring
married in summer

what’s for dessert?
bread and butter pudding
by the fireside
my poodle and I
eyeball each other

some mornings
there’s a dankness of fog…
more often
her tiny paws patter
over silvery frost

this month’s Vogue
declares the new black to be
black and white –
now in fashion, magpies
strutting down our driveway

cosy in bed
in my childhood home
I worried
and wondered where birds slept
when tree limbs iced over

when young I
welcomed snowploughs at night
School’s Cancelled –
today I dig out the car
dreading a tough commute

four together
in a ski gondola
up the mountain…
all those years wondering
whether she’d have children

snowy owls
sighted in the canyon
how people flock
to see white animals
wolves, whales, and unicorns

plum blossoms
in the last month of winter
gather to appreciate
these harbingers of spring

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