At d’Verse, the pub for poets, Sanaarizvi’s prompt is to write about November and to explain ourselves. I have always loved November in New England, even though I recently heard it referred to as Stick season, a let down for many after Leaf season. For everything there is a season and for leafless trees it’s all about roots and inner space. These three poems I had written some time ago but they never had any place to go– until now.
November Skies First day of November dawned kettle gray, scoured clean. Blue jays scrabbled by. Curled leaves clung, faded green but mostly burnt shades orange, red, yellow bristling against the canvas sky. Gray November skies, impassive and impartial to the desperate brush; orange! red! yellow! have no hold on the marbled gray that reins the wind that might send them flying that leashes the rain that might wash them away. November is a wise month of endings and of beginnings destructive, creative, first and last at once. Last leaves, first cold crisp days expressed between lengthening nights November’s gray casts a special light. In just a while all will be all right. *** Mid November November gray dawned then calmly went along with gifts of days blue skied, days of warmth and sun November also gave the wind its head, loosened the reins and let it run stretched galloping; through nights and days it reared and plunged and cavorted with the leaping lashing rain unleashed On those days leaves were wiped from their berths were spun and whipped and thrown down Color now mumbles subdued at the feet of trees where, still grumbling, finally turn brown Wind and rain are brought to heel again to November’s commands obedient As much a Janus as another, yet ego-less and wise November emanates omniscience and is content with the palette of its steely skies. Some power was shown, not all, not all brought to heel again, it’s not too late to resurrect your fall. November’s End November wanes, no wind, no rain Cold sparkles in night’s dark. Lean land revealed, kneeled in prayer bold braced, skeletal bare, Clean spare trees exposed like spars; the bones of November support the stars. November has a deep abiding strength, so equably borne Strong and beautiful, elegantly unadorned.