The fat full moon thrusts its hard light into my room striping my bed in fertile mourning darkness. Against the greying sky, waving branches warn the cold is here and coming, in winter’s inevitable embrace.
Tag: November
November
Watching the wild branches writhe in the wind, I surrender to mourning. Colour is leached from the sky, the branches bare, the earth cold, only glimpses of sunlight. Waiting for winter, I close my eyes, remembering warmth, waiting for silence.
November – A Poem About the School Year
I spent most of my life living the rhythms of the school year. November was always difficult. Here’s a poem I wrote a number of years ago when I was still teaching.
November in School
In November, everything crashes –
files are lost,
cars slide into each other,
suiciding squirrels shut down generators
and I
am late for school.
In November, people weep –
assignments fail,
teachers and students snarl,
work done is less than hoped,
and more,
much more, is required.
In November, we fear –
even if Christmas ever comes,
even if spring only hides behind
the winter we have to endure,
we have lost
whatever we came here to find.
Bleak Joy
a tangle of bare, black branches
against a cloud-curdled sky:
bleak joy.
Learning Living 