Pushing December

Lying in soft flowered fields
pushing winter from our minds,
we joked of what matters not;
petals showered that day.

Peppered with discomfort
at hedging November,
our talk was cheered by cider;
the last sip staining memory on rims of empty cups.

The final leaf of autumn waved
winter to my door,
a guest most unpleasant.

I invited him in.