gray upon

gray. the last

vestige of patterned leaves cling

to the trees and calico ground. Rain

settles in, an unwelcome, familiar face

in the mirror. We are ordered

to give thanks

no matter

how desperate,


downtrodden, soulless

the cornucopia

of human kindness becomes. Skies so gray upon gray

the abbreviated days yield

respite and reason

for thanks. Less hours

in a day you wish

not to rise.

I wrote this draft as part of National Poetry Writing Month. I hope to collect these works for a mixed media/writing piece I am working on entitled Love Letters to My Brother in Prison. 

One comment on “November

  1. cymone
    April 28, 2013

    I like your subversive use of adjectives….

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