Autumn Frost
by Fredric Hildebrand
Dogs wait patiently at the door.
Outside the frozen leaves.
Over the twilight roof,
moon like white muslin.
Orion rises in the southern sky.
My father said, “We’re waiting for winter now.”
His death was another season, long.
That evening the cold, woodsmoke waiting.
Silence now except a faint whispering.
Then great flakes of wet snow.
I turn to the sky; I receive the blessing.
Dogs wait patiently at the door.
Outside the frozen leaves.
Over the twilight roof,
moon like white muslin.
Orion rises in the southern sky.
My father said, “We’re waiting for winter now.”
His death was another season, long.
That evening the cold, woodsmoke waiting.
Silence now except a faint whispering.
Then great flakes of wet snow.
I turn to the sky; I receive the blessing.
Dogs wait patiently at the door.
Fredric Hildebrand is a retired physician who lives and writes in Neenah, WI. His poetry has appeared in ArtAscent, Bramble, Millwork, Red Eft Review, and Verse-Virtual. When not writing or reading, he plays acoustic guitar and explores the Northwoods with his wife and two Labrador retrievers.