Late fall in Minnesota

Snow, blowing across the swirling misty ground
Smooth curved and contoured like waves are the drifts
White tops are raised to a peak and then blown like dust or sea foam
This sea is powdery and the wind over the face of the Earth is dusted by it.
 
Blustery, biting and sharp is the wind that lifts 
the last remnants of the crispy brown skeletal leaves. 
I shield all the more intently my face from the wind
I am blinded by gusts of ice laden air.

The sounds of movement change in such days,
The crunching and squelching of this time is a distraction 
I plod like a man through quicksand lifting and pulling my feet
Retrieving them from the all too welcoming snow, my face glowing

My legs and my arms, my face and my hands start to ache as the temperature drops
The cold freezing in my nose and the burning of my lungs
Take some fun out of this white wintery wonderland
Then I think of the months of this cold yet remaining and realize

Its not winter yet.