Mid-October Poem by C Richard Miles

Mid-October and the first
Chill winds of winter whip
And harry us reluctantly
Into jazzy acrylic jumpers
And short, striped scarves,
Though not the swathes
Of heavy aromatic arans
And the throat-hugging, garish,
Anaconda-like mufflers
That festoon our Decembers.
The trees are still wrapped up
Themselves, in their half-green
Half-yellow stoles of leaves
But irritating, tickly coughs and
Snot-blocked nostrils demonstrate
Our susceptibility to the
Unexpected change of season
Which has caught us out.