The weather, so far from what we’d expected
of fall and the impending snow of winter,
the storing up and the settling in,
has kept us hopeful this year,
and our dock still stretches out
into the lake from our front steps.
We are the last on the lake to “close up camp,”
turning off the water against freezing
turning off the water against freezing
and broken pipes, removing the dock and boats
and stowing them away, locking the door behind us
until spring’s return. We’re pressing our luck, we know,
the cold creeping into the ground around us,
the furnace running longer, and mornings,
the wood stove slow to heat us up,
so with cold and rain and hints of snow predicted,
it’s time to leave; just as October gives way
to November, we, too, must give way to ourselves,
pack up our lives, and return to the convenience
of insulated living, elsewhere, shut in, away
from the cold and the snow of our lives, distracted
and inconvenienced by the weather coming in.
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