A Winter's Call to Arms

Upon a listless deep November morn,
My gaze is pulled to the West aflame.
Where Autumn flees, with its paint afoot,
And frost has come to its throne reclaim.

Bold unchained, thundering forth,
Its pillars puncture the horizon tall.
With swords unsheathed, and boisterous drums,
Winter bursts its clarion call.

Its armies summoned, now unleashed-
Clothed in satin garments fair,
Over the aching ground, relentless stride,
Until the fragile earth lay bare.

Blooming winter, admires proud,
From the hills of victory sweet;
Its battleground, left grey and white,
Where Fall bows humble in defeat.