Winter's Early Grasp

Has autumn passed?
Will Indian summer never come?
The snow, like crumbled topping, will it last?
In drifting whiteness, no more raindrops drum.

Never ready, self-condemned,
will winter triumph, catching unaware?
But foolish hope, from illusion stemmed,
lets us imagine another summer day waits there.

Some may cringe at the thought:
freeze,and treacherous icy roads,
the leafless trees, in drifts delayed or caught,
but, hey, we're not buried in the mud like toads.

Some wait for the ice on lakes,
their augers at the ready for the fish,
and another, for snow board or ski slope takes,
and, now--surprise--a short warm up as some would wish.,

The theater of seasons plays its act,
and, if we put the winter garb away,
the snow flakes will drift down--accept the fact:
It may be inconvenient, but not dull, each day.