Are You Cold?

The Fall crimps when the Mistral soars
and evenings go deaf with a sleety roar,
Days just melt in misty sunshine,
when the earth ages like a fine wine

Sultry fragrance emerges out of the blue
like a deer’s musk, without a clue
The month of cold passes in haste
but the frosts are yet to fall in place

When the snowy caps are spread across
displaying a weave of subtle cotton floss
Numbing surrounds and all its kin
chilling the souls and parching the skin

Meadows which were lush in green
are crisped in textures of serene
When Fog shivers in every breath
as if repulsing lords of death

Frozen darks pierced with nipping sights
streets stranded in one-dog night
With a few of those who dare to thrive
a struggle to endure a brawl to survive

Overlooked by those who poll
or pitied by sympathetic souls
Until they are wrapped in folds
By an angel who asks “Are you cold?”

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Vandana Saxena
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