Purgatory

The sun singed the ambiguous sky as another day fizzled away wasted.
The lack of cold burns more than the actual frost not covering the landscape.
Though long dead some leaves cling to the branches haunting the wind as it pushes through them and hisses between the confused bare trees.
What should be a Winter silence is actually a cacophony of left behind birds and leaves blowing in the wind and rustling about on the uncovered ground still being pounded by the bustle of people wandering around ignorant to the lack of a season or the terrible cold yet to come.
The endless shadows pour on me from all directions leaving my mind in an abyss.
I look to the deep blue sky for absolution but find only the blinding rays waiting for me.
How long do we have to wait before the brittle cold finds us?
How long before Spring warms the ground again and allows us outside?
With no transition in sight it's impossible to foresee the end of season that has yet to begin.