Tuesday, November 24, 2015

It Must Be November...





When earth is swept of leaf-song
And girth of gardens stripped
When orchard limbs are barren
Where fruit of flowers dripped
When June is an illusion
In Brigadoon of thought
Then it must be November
Darling, love me, love me not

When we, estranged spectators
To sun-swept fields of grass
Must learn to learn new colors
In things that come to pass
When we ally with dreamers
...reply to firesides
Then it must be November
Darling, love me with your eyes


When gilt of gray and sable
Strums skylines, bare and bleak
When the air is stiff with struggle
But will of day is weak
When we grapple with wishes
Adjusting to good-bye
Then it must be November
Darling, love me like July

© Janet Martin

I have to confess
I'm struggling a little
to adapt to the color-change...


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