First snow chalks the remnants of summer,
another layer of seasonal time
brightens the dead and the dying,
ourselves among them, mon cher,
we knights of aging,
accepting change as it happens,
professing contentment
and peace in frozen fields.
Let us raise our polished faces,
proclaim faith in each other,
and move through the world, old school,
armored in wool and feathers,
though our maille be thin,
and the effects chilling.
