November's Little Day

While nature goes about its busyness

Of dying or silent hibernation

We sight the virgin snowflake’s dizziness

Of spiraling arabesque elation

Sallow-gray daylight dips to eventide

We cannot quell the darkness with protest

As surely as we greet the morning light

It drifts across the small sky to the west

The stealthy thief of hours never sleeps

And in like-manner, as July’s demise

November soon will join the phantom deeps

Of history and echoed lullabies

But now it spills its thousand shades of gray

Across the hour of its little day

© Janet Martin