Month of Losses, Month of Gains

November is the spare season.

Nature’s bones show

in the ribbed rocks

and naked hardwoods.

Color blows down

as scattered leaves,

leeches into the soil,

in monochromatic brown.

Warmth lingers in hidden places,

in corners and deep grasses,

close to the earth

where roots gather.

Trees are stripped and polished

by wind and sun,

the sky scoured by energetic rain,

cloud buffed and blue-bright.

Slow down, says the season.

Gather in, hunker down.

I comply, storing root crops,

counting blessings by the jar.

I learn to live the seasons,

to differentiate sky calls of greeting and farewell,

knowing that what leaves in November

returns in the spring.

All around me dance the twin fires,

death and life interchanging,

energy and smoke,

the blossom faded, the seed set.

Dark and cold come hand in hand,

arriving early, staying late,

bringing coziness as a house gift,

unwrapping hours of ease,

an excuse to curl by the fire

book in hand, drink at the elbow,

while rain lashes the windows

and the wind wails because it can’t get in.