November

with the wild wind like a pack of wolves
ravaging the cracking earth
nipping at closed doors
rattling shutters
thieving the pink from once rosy cheeks
November
with still mornings accompanied by steam
rolling off the top of cups of tea
walking down the street
in the gloves of yawning people
November
with silent gray dawnings
the warm sun dancing across the frozen earth
with frostbitten heels
licking bare trees until they glisten
November
with pensive skies and waiting hearts
the world waltzes through waking slumber
windshield wipers and grandfather clocks
keep the steady beat of the turning earth
when the sun cannot be seen
in November
with fog that pours through city streets
in the stillness of twilight
when anything could but might not be
November
with freezing lakes and skating rinks
and family time in the evenings
microwave s'mores and late-night coffee
dreaming of what will come
in November
with scarves and good hiking
late nights by a fire
hot soup and cold noses
warm nights in cold rooms
couches and blankets and
ducks flying south
for November

*adapted from a concept poem on my other blog: etaunknown.tumblr.com