Overnight it grew, as the cold and moisture met.
We were warned — and advised and a-watched and alerted.
No more flowers, no more tomatoes. First hard freeze, also.
But the leaves are not quite done.
Some have shook and shed and they break the whiteout with splashes of yellow, pink, and rust.
Leaves wink from their branches.
And thousands lie scattered across the top of the snow,
in rebellion,
not pressed under,
promising some measure of autumnal rennaisance,
tomorrow or the next day.