That season’s come

It’s come,
That season
Every drop from the faucet’s
Just a little colder,
Every breeze that rustles
The jeans, needles me -
Little harpoons of chill
Pierce old summer armor;
The food I took
From the fridge one week ago
Felt like fire;
Today it feels like snow.
I need mittens to eat!
Yes, it’s arrived.
I feel that reaper, flu
Hanging over my shoulder,
Looking for his red carpet
Entrance, usually a prickly
Chill down my back,
Never waiting to ask
if he can borrow my body,
He just hitchhikes to another,
Leaving my bed in a fever.
This hospitality’s no fun;
He never tells his cousins
They’re unwanted, either;
all of a sudden, they just come
But not by the names,
Genghis Khan or Atila the Hun
But in codes, avian or h1n1
They say he comes from China
Maybe he does;
My eyes grow squinty,
As tears and sniffles pour forth.
And misery rides in on winds
from the North.

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

Usually in the evening I'll start feeling a change. It's my time of year, when the kids go back to school and September begins to bring a familiar chill. I really enjoyed this, Maxwell. I loved how you brought it to our attention, how even the water from the faucet gets a little colder.

I usually don't get a flu shot for I rarely get sick. But as things go, I got one last year and was sick Christmas day. It really does sneak up on you, just like an uninvited house guest. ; )