Winter's invite

An aging night
breathes its last
Gives way to a weekday morning
The doorbell rings.
On the porch,
a parch white envelope sleeps
The last of Autumn
addressed to me
Winter's early invitation.
That decorous lady,
the perfect host
In keeping with my ways,
she sends along
a hint of mist,
the touch of chill
year after year
everyday until I'm ready;
Wrapping around me,
pulling my sullen moods
off all the hangers in the house