Signs of winter. Some here. Some to come.
And so the sandhill cranes
Appear again,
Signal the true end
Of fall
More than the snow.
They are late this year
Their calls
(my beloved heard them first)
Their calls
A joyous sound.
The first snow melts.
The backyard birds
Find the seed
Around the crabapple.
Soon the duck lady
In red
Or blue
May appear.
My beloved saw fox tracks
In the snow
You can tell
He said
Because they walk
In a line.
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