November bleeds
grey and brown.
Fallen leaves seep
into damp ground
and wrest away
the memory and breath
of summer.
Listen.
You can nearly hear
the dirge of dying birds.
This gives words to the November picture that I carry in my head. November is one of my least favorite months (right up there with February). Except that it contains Mike's birthday & Thanksgiving...
whew....that last line...you easy us into it as well...while fall is the time of dying i find that last bit of brilliant color before the fall beautiful....and even after, full of texture...your last line is stirring though...nicely done
Oh, I hope they don't die....I hope they just fly to warmer climes!
ReplyDeleteThis gives words to the November picture that I carry in my head. November is one of my least favorite months (right up there with February). Except that it contains Mike's birthday & Thanksgiving...
ReplyDeletedirge of dying birds... At least their song goes away. One reason I love spring so much - their voices come back.
ReplyDeleteWhat Margaret said...so thankful their voices come back in spring...hope mine does, too :-)
ReplyDeletewhew....that last line...you easy us into it as well...while fall is the time of dying i find that last bit of brilliant color before the fall beautiful....and even after, full of texture...your last line is stirring though...nicely done
ReplyDelete