November is my least favorite month of the year, save that it brings Thanksgiving. Somehow it seems to be more of the end of the year than December, perhaps because December is so filled with holiday celebration that it distracts from the ending of another year. November always seems bleak...and tearing off the page on the calendar today that brought me to November 1 made me shudder. And so, a poem for today.
Every year, November
rain comes in thin
metal sheets tearing
last leaves from trees
pins them to sidewalks
mapping a path to winter
grey comes to shade
clouds like slim boats
hung on steeples
needling the skies
to hold autumn in place
night comes quickly
after noon to hurry day
away, slow blooming frost
covers the ground, windows
with the dying breath of gods
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
November
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5 cat calls:
Did you write that? It's fantastic! You really are a kick-ass poet!
(Wow, what a poetic way to put that!)
Indeed, written by yours truly. Thank you for your poetic compliment.
What a beautiful poem. . . you should post more! Being one of the freaks who actually loves fall/winter more than spring/summer, I actually really like November, but the poem was beautiful nonetheless.
I like November, too, for some reason. I guess, because I love Thanksgiving so much and it's the epitome of Fall to me. So, even if it's starting to feel like winter already, I still associate the great things of fall with the month. odd.
PS great poem. I really did mean to say that previously. I've always loved reading your writing and especially some of your deeply researched and meaningful poems! (Calypso -- didn't I get the poem and then the meaning behind the poem was several pages long?)
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