
In my mind,
November lies ahead
like brown slush on soaked hummus
as a gentle wind
plays a child’s tune
through darkening evergreens
somehow,
its stately, broken rhythm soothes me.
In my mind,
November lies ahead
like brown slush on soaked hummus
as a gentle wind
plays a child’s tune
through darkening evergreens
somehow,
its stately, broken rhythm soothes me.