Comes in on muddy skids

Ignoring the calendar

Shaving its low gray brow

Undercover of a high cloudy sky

Wet with anticipation

It comes in when you see & hear

The great white flock

Of tundra swans

Trailed by a few dark geese all

Bellowing goodbyes

From overhead

 It comes

The day you’ve had enough of

Of ice and frozen bones

The day you refuse to acquiesce

To your bed until the sun breaks the spell

Shaking off the coldest month

In the history of keeping warm

 It comes

The day you throw

Off winter covers & sing songs

Warm enough to overtake

The sorrow that is homemade

And unnecessary