Monday, April 9, 2018

When November Comes (Day 446)


Even the silence is quiet today.   
The last of Autumn’s leaves flocked 
and flew away in a late-winter storm,  
so this afternoon’s peace remains 
unmarred by their bird-like scuttling
on the root-buckled sidewalk. 

From my glass of tea, just within reach 
on a slatted wood table, condensation 
trickles and falls onto the damp, 
shaded  grass below, its intermittent  
drip drip marking these gentle moments.

And, though I can remember the bitter 
feel of February, my body is incapable 
of knowing it—with this dappled light 
insinuating itself so intimately into my 
blood—nor do I want to. There will be 
time enough for frost and snow, 
when November comes again.



(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Ankyn/Pixabay, further altered