VIOLA - November
Somewhere between hiking through the woods in a sweatshirt and bundling up in a winter jacket lies the month of November.
It’s a month that includes all the seasons, providing us with plenty of contradictions. The slanted autumn sunlight makes the world glow from radiant reds to a dull brown.
It’s a month that inspires poetry.
***
Hogback
You
lying
naked
belly down
like a queen
We
become
travelers
encompassed
in your
narrow
width
Lost
in length
wrapped
in time
Let
it be years
before
I forget
the
loveliness
of your
spine
***
Fifty Shades of Green
Ah, Wisconsin
soaring hills
sinuous roads
cavernous valleys
Ample and slender trees
Towering, bending,
thrashing
You look lovely
I want to taste your
buds, savor the
sweetness of spring
Phlox of passionate purple,
luscious lavender, and virginal white
wave in fields,
dance creekside
Peepers quaver
Whippoorwills trill
Eagles soar
Ah, Wisconsin
I am smitten.
***
Magic
Moss-covered rocks cut into stairs
sharp shades of green.
Long, narrow caves calling my name
sand-filled bottoms, damp, pungent.
Dirt trail snaking through white spruce
pine-covered overlooks, river far below.
Cool, lush valley bottom
Streams running the length of
giant sandstone walls
telling of change.
One yellow lady slipper
hiding
safe behind the ferns.
***
Wind Dance
Trees dancing outside my window
Wind playing in my ear
Rain splashing downward
Nobody near.
Warm and damp.
Gray and black.
Branches falling
Cradling empty nests
Lying across paths
Making it hard to pass.
Lost leaves swirling
Rushing
Rushing
Rushing
Past.
***
20 MPH
Rush only if you must.
You won't be here forever
Our time is limited
The world longs for us to see
We won't be here forever
Go
slow
pay attention
Stop
notice
breathe
Only
rush
if you must.
Columbine
Phlox
Wild geraniums
won't last
forever
neither will we.
***
The Calling
In between light and dark
Purple and pink
Bare trees and thin ice
There is a pond
Calling your name.
***
An Animal
I am nothing but an animal, I said,
Peering up from the ground.
I awoke from the earth only this morning.
Dirt under my nails. Hair unkempt.
I scoured for berries
Fingers stained red, then blue.
Belly full.
I travel alone.
Slowly.
Taking in the smells and sights.
I touch a tree. Pick up a pine cone.
Feel the earth under my boots.
Hands and feet.
Hands and feet.
My eyes see. My heart feels.
My brain swims with images,
Thoughts and theories.
When I tire, I lie down.
Curled.
Cuddled.
***
Dear Leaves,
Forgive me
for silently screaming
"Hang on,"
when your one job in fall
is to let go.