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elizabeth-shieldPoems
It is November And all the leaves face my way Overlapping tussocks of grass Like long forgotten hills Dwelling in the overhang of fall It is November Orange ribbons hand in tatters Patched up yellow cloaks are draped And whisking in the wind Then drifting to the earth And becoming winters pillow It is November And there stands a lonely tower Base adorned with red bushes Flags no longer flying Crouched and crippled by the frost It is November My feet bear down on acorns A thousand fold All left and forgotten Even to the squirrels Just a layer ‘neath my feet It is November The solitary pines stand solid Near the ivy covered wall Their boughs raise and hail the heavens And their needles fall As the autumn wind dances a mournful dance It is November Bare branches rake the cloudy skies And scratch out their heartfelt pleas Against cold glass windows Seeking what they have lost and will not find It is November An old gate stands ajar Beckoning to no one Standing solidly open Despite the cruel fall wind It is November Trees make colored circles A fading gold on fading green A fireworks display Now falling to the ground It is November Cold air fills my body Cruel wind tosses my hair I seek a shelter from autumn My door is open Now I am home
0
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
It is November
It is November And all the leaves face my way Overlapping tussocks of grass Like long forgotten hills Dwelling in the overhang of fall It is November Orange ribbons hand in tatters Patched up yellow cloaks are draped And whisking in the wind Then drifting to the earth And becoming winters pillow It is November And there stands a lonely tower Base adorned with red bushes Flags no longer flying Crouched and crippled by the frost It is November My feet bear down on acorns A thousand fold All left and forgotten Even to the squirrels Just a layer ‘neath my feet It is November The solitary pines stand solid Near the ivy covered wall Their boughs raise and hail the heavens And their needles fall As the autumn wind dances a mournful dance It is November Bare branches rake the cloudy skies And scratch out their heartfelt pleas Against cold glass windows Seeking what they have lost and will not find It is November An old gate stands ajar Beckoning to no one Standing solidly open Despite the cruel fall wind It is November Trees make colored circles A fading gold on fading green A fireworks display Now falling to the ground It is November Cold air fills my body Cruel wind tosses my hair I seek a shelter from autumn My door is open Now I am home
elizabeth-shield
Written by
elizabeth-shield
American
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
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