orange, red, yellow, ochre
the colour of rain
saturating flag stones,
slate, concrete, cobbles and brick
autumn.
november first is fall
and winter
barely disguised
in scarves, mittens, wet wool and sumptuous cashmere.
wind, storm
light the grey sky makes
night envelopes suddenly
swallowing dusk, unapologetic.
autumn is november first and the first of november is a passing of autumn.
hunker down, quiet down.
rustle leaves.
crunch and crisp and curl
snow threatens, teases
leaves swirl and fall, live and die
catch fire with colours aflame, aglow
november first
announces, resigns
sighs.
chill, frost, bite
autumn briefly
winter waits.
knit me in
take me home
wrap hands
steaming liquid
chestnuts roasting
frozen toes and nose
cumulous clouds layered, quilted
ferocious. quiet, brave.
november is one grand american holiday revolving around
turkey, cranberries, winter squash, potatoes, brown sugar, & warm spices.
persimmon leaves glow; electrified.
november is midterms, home for the holidays
fireplace alive. tongues of fire
hot cocoa, foliage pilgrimages,
picking apples upstate!
cider, butter, pie.
november first.
autumn incarnate.
raking leaves,
exchanging summer for winter.
trees let go of leaves
branches clarify
light whitens.
happy november
I love the November poem; I love you too Shuna. :-)
Look at you Fred! Reading eggbeater and shit! Zow. I love you back Mr. Gromadski, you wild and wooly creature. You know I'm moving, right? ~ Shuna
Posted by: Fred Gromadski | 01 November 2008 at 09:35 PM
oh, so yes. November. You said it beautifully, melancholic November.
Posted by: katrina | 02 November 2008 at 05:02 PM
i. love. your. poetry.
:-)
Posted by: Sarah | 04 November 2008 at 01:05 AM