There is yellow on the leaves;
love of bare November days
and frost— it makes me wonder as to why
one prefers Spring,
it can never be half as glorious as
shades of grey and naked sky that scatters emotion
out into the open.
It’s nice when there is something other than
existential ache covering your bones.
I stand in front of the cherry oak dresser and
glance at cowl-neck draped waist
white slip dress, dab on lip-gloss
and realize that nonchalance often comes with
I see myself and yet, there is something that
doesn’t quite feel familiar when the light hits,
it’s almost as though a looking-glass world that hints
at the future.
The ground shifts, and I am led to a narrow pathway
past boundaries that have been destroyed,
well-timed and soft,
beyond the rubble and fractured walls, smoke seeps
from the blackened earth and rises
from the ashes of evergreens and oaks,
I am made to understand that this is somewhat like
an inner landscape.
I am in awe, for there are strawberry stars that await,
a long list of journeys
and a map of trials and tribulations to my name,
not necessarily meant to overwhelm,
but rather to prepare me for what’s coming.
Tell me, do you ever listen to the song that morning
sings? Have you ever observed
the red-winged blackbirds that echo over the marsh,
there is both serenity
and sadness in knowing the significance of it all.
The sky is suffused with a deep blush,
as the room comes back into focus
and I am made to stare back again at the reflection
in the mirror, only this time,
the woman gazing back at me feels more confident.
Maybe, someday I’ll know what I am doing.
Photo credits: Pinterest
“November comes and November goes, with the last red berries and the first white snows.”
by Elizabeth Coatsworth 🌹