December 1, 2016 – Portland, Oregon
Six weeks beyond our usual first frost
ginko leaf-notes fly down the street,
clog gutters. We know this, expect this.
Then an ornamental plum
pushes out shy buds, laced
with caution. Careless.
Spoon tips of daffodils up a half-inch,
hyacinths a quarter. Gold nasturtiums,
the nasturtiums pay no never mind
if we hauled in a Christmas tree,
brushing aside their trailing vines
radiant on the stone path.
Mountain snowpack stacks up,
ski resorts open, and while revelers
rejoice, the valley is rain upon rain.
Let winter come says the sundial
to the valley. Arugula, rose bud,
feverfew, shasta daisies, calendula
and violets are deaf to warnings,
pretend new normals and record
settings are all they know
in this the freezing-over moon.
Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet with two books in print – Ocean’s Laughter (Aldrich Press 2016) and Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press 2014). Website: triciaknoll.com