“Late Season Communique,” Ensign, Nov. 1971, 56
Winter won everything last night. The frost
Captured each hollow place; ice moved ahead,
Sealing off puddles. Tall plants, having lost
A final skirmish, stand inert and dead.
No longer fragrant, showing less and less
The wild, sharp colors of their bloomful days,
Roses retreat to petaled scentlessness,
While lost deciduous leaves flee separate ways.
These grim maneuvers, these strategic feints
Reveal once more the final phase begun;
Once more a propaganda artist paints
Bright, temporary beauty. Winter won
Everything last night. Now a dull breeze
Twists blasted leaves—old summer memories.