Grumble

I can't help feeling this
is the ruin of the year.
I'll take a red leaf
or a vine of porcelain berries
with appreciation,
but look,
it's just a consolation prize
for what we'll soon endure,
and once we're past the new year,
it's just a weary slog
to the grudging warmth of houses
and the door to Spring.

October 19 2015