Autumn cedes to winter

Snowfall today: fat, wet flakes coating pine boughs and then in a gust of wind floating away to coat instead the grass or dirt or the bright yellow leaves that had only days ago fallen themselves.

Winter.

I sat awhile on the hearth, hands blackened, watching the fire and contemplating the trails beetles carve in pine logs – as mysterious as petroglyphs carved in rock – a spark remaining from long ago.