tuck shirt in pants
buckle back up
mittens on
no delay this December morning.
Steep trek uphill
not far to the warm cabin
and tea
done this a million times
and in snow even deeper.
along the narrow trail
brush up against
fresh white powder
falling off branches
falling on to my boots
exposing
at my elbow,
one perfect
wild rose bud,
tight and green
small as the baby's
fingernail.
And here I thought
tomorrow
was the first day
of winter.