Warmth (my poem)

A season ends, another begins
The days are shorter now
Crows and magpies reappear
The grapes are left behind
to turn into raisins
A bad vintage by all accounts
Let the birds feast on them
There will be a tomorrow regardless
Befriend the oak trees
They are there for all of us
And heed their wisdom
that tolerance of cold winds
does not constitute warmth within
With or without comforts
only in community you find
what you truly need

My poetry is but an attempt to record feelings. All poems are written in one go. I do not tend to their aesthetic appeal, as that requires extra processing which detracts from my truth in the moment.