November Morning

It speaks to me;
from cream softened oranges and greens disenchanted

and in turn pours into my veins and lifts,
November dreary, dour and dark

when deeper truths trickle from walls that are spiced—
I can never complain that years have been wasted,
as the wind breaks in
and sourwood blushes; it’s much too easy to give up,
to disintegrate.
The half-light of morning scatters reveries that once used
to be mine,

perhaps it too is aware of the dangers of mitigation—
as fallen leaves
curl upon the ground and hint;
beauty and pain are two sides
of the same coin.

And now caffeinated tears are being replaced,
tell me,
what can possibly be more fulfilling?
November dreary, dour and dark flows freely into my pen;
sketching all that’s possible as wisdom settles in,
we are finally one.




Photo credits: Miss. Pink. Coconut Illustrations, Pinterest

For my prompt at dVerse Pub, where I invite others to
contemplate the month of November. Come join us! 💝

Posted for Poetics: “What does November mean to you?” @ dVerse Pub