November

Scarlet tree branches,

Moon light through naked limbs.

Night is silenced by the cold

And damp forest sleeps.

The songbirds have gone,

Their singing missed by the morning.

Crows caw to the shadowed sun as

Darkness increases its grip.

It is all winding down,

Life and love, slowly seeping into the ground.

The cold silences and subdues,

Its victory complete and all sleep.

The wind speaks to me in this dark time.

It’s howling through naked branches

Reminds me of the power, the life force that

Remains when the sun has pulled back its warmth.

The cold is too strong, to deep to penetrate

It is invasive and complete in its capture.

It holds down life,

Forces it underground to wait.

The cold is not evil, but is

A necessary part of the whole.

Without the cold time there would be no spring,

No return of the sun, no song birds to sing.

The cycles must run, the four corners call

And she who dwells in the heart must be heard.

All is right, all is good, all is as it must be

Should be, is and forever will be.

November

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