November's Daughter
oh, say you, zithering delightfully
the leaf's breath leads me on
to the tree of your sanguinity.
the wind is much stronger,
the verdure is greener
in my side of the Earth
you cross with a single glance
etching something in the soul:
a writ of marvels or a lace of birds
stringing across the entire
November morning.
in one of the days made thoroughly
by careful hands,
it is you in the flesh of many
tangible days.
i say again,
the wind is cooler,
thwarting the summer.
surly flowers glide in the air
and the clouds twitch in sun-glaze
and temperamental pondering
November supremed you, me;
the sovereign of its bounty
opened its door and let in,
a crystalline vestige:
the wind is tender past the windows.
i watch the slow specter of night
in its vertical climb;
you,
the moon,
altogether, hand in hand,
like water falling and falling
into my mouth, receiving your shadow–
the world
moves brighter than ever.
For M.