Wednesday, November 16, 2016

NOVEMBER TOO *


 

WRITING LIFE




Do not dismiss November as a throw-away month, 

a collection of weeks that precedes and follows holidays

or you may miss the revelation that November is, in fact,

nature’s scrapbook filled with remembrance and recollection 

of this year nearly past.

 
Sunny summer days can come in November, days so warm  

we turn our faces, eyes shut, to the sky and bare our arms,

We cluck with surprise at lavender crocuses blooming again

amid thick blankets of russet leaves, we cock our heads to listen

to the beat of wings overhead as birds seek home (and often

think “but didn’t we just hear them arriving this spring?”)

We notice wintery black branches outlined against white clouds

hurrying across the sky with the urgency of a mother late for pickup.

 
Even the air is stunning, how can something invisible

be defined by qualities like strong or crisp or crystalline.

Frosty November mornings become balmy days,

then clear, cold, cobalt nights crowded with stars

and a restless moon that glides among them

with the solitary grace of a lone swan searching for its mate.

At day’s end black and coral skies sprawl unrestrained and joyous

as the work of a child left alone in an art room.

 
November dares us to name its rich, complex colors

and duplicate its elegant patterns effortlessly made

by weeds, vines, corners, shadows, and spiders.

The only adequate response to November’s

unrelenting beauty and art is this: shout praise

praise for streams and puddles and marshes

praise for maples and oaks and pines and cedars

praise for crunchy brown leaf piles

praise for shiny red wild rose hips

shout praise for gold everywhere.

 
Praise to you, little leaf spiraling confidently through the air,

lingering long moments between tree and ground,

obviously searching for the perfect landing place, well done!! 

 
And praise to you, November,

for your promises made

and honored each year:

Change is coming soon.

This glory will return.

And the world will be different

by then.


CHRISTIE LOWRANCE, NOVEMBER 2016
 

Note:   "November Too" is an elaboration on an earlier poem titled “This November” which was based on an earlier poem titled “November.” Apparently November resonates with me.  




4 comments:

  1. Hello Christie ...

    Pure joy
    is infilling my Heart
    for your words - I have just read.

    TY
    ...........
    You have an invitation to visit -the Lower Cape- for 'tea' ... anytime. ... Linda Ohlson Graham

    ps: I've been so -very proud- re: the blog you wrote about me and my art ... a few years ago. >TY :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Linda, thanks for sweet words of affirmation from a true poet! BTW my post about you and your work continues to be hugely read!!

      Delete
  2. Great thoughts about November! We had forgotten, as the month became lost in elections and holidays. The stores fill up with goods not seen all year.
    But it disturbs the ancient flow of this month, once considered first month of the New Year.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I did not know November was known as the first month of the year! How very fitting, it explains something, doesn't it? Thank you!

    ReplyDelete