First Frost in Texas

A stranger's view of seasons in another part of the world

First Frost in Texas

“Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness,”
The autumn of Keats,
My childhood memories too.
Misty mornings,
Familiar Harvest hymns,
Playing conkers,
Crunching through the dry leaves.
A gentle season
Preparing us for winter.

But in Texas?
One day summer dresses,
The next week frozen fingers
As I scrape the ice from the car.
Mists hang low in the fields,
Driving on the highway between them
I feel like I am travelling above the clouds.

Even the leaves appear confused.
“Do we fall or not?”
Some take the frost as a sign.
They scurry to the ground like children late for school.
They form drifts of multicoloured snowflakes.
Others cling on to their branches,
Perhaps hoping that today was a mistake
And summer will return.

And I? I wonder when autumn happened.
I think I must have missed it
When I blinked.