Winter in Eden

There's no more tenderness in the world today. Is there?

Why did they change,
these same flakes
once playful drops ending a summer rain
bouncing, combined like song and drum
slipping and sliding off our leaves like oil?

Night after cold night now
they surf this illinois wind
to whisper as we rest in our soil beds
wheedling our naked fingers
to spread and hold the fall,
till our frozen limbs are now numb and hard.

These same flakes,
that stroke our branches with their bitter sting
burying our sunny leaves
away from the gentle touch of loving rays.
These same flakes,
that leave us covered; fully assimilated
into this cold complexion.

kc