Anticipating Winter
November’s fires heat my face to flushing-
the glow of autumn awakens
the cinders in my heart and
whispers a lullaby to the
ants beneath my skin.
my lungs burn with the breath
I’ve been holding since the
end of February-
it turns to smoke
in the grasp of the waning year.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: