when frost begins to bloom,
when trees are shivering with fear,
when mornings start at noon,
when arid winds change damp and chill,
when clouds threaten to turn,
when rain drops on my window sill,
when hills no longer burn,
when city streets and memories
entangle in my mind,
when highways creep and angels meet
regret’s all i can find
my lantern burns too bright, i fear
i miss you most this time of year
--Marin C, Adult