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.