an ode to November

walking slowly in the sunshine,
my cold ears start listening to
the song of this season.
it’s a tune of ferocious wind
and a deep ache in the bones,
of comfort
and silence
and all these things that are changing,
none of which we can control.

and then i thought i heard you singing,
my own little words spilling from your lips:
weighty prayers and quiet promises
that you didn’t think i’d hear.
(we’re singing the same song, you and i;
even if we don’t know it yet.) 

i stay awake 
in the wintertime: 
mostly waiting
but always dreaming. 

 

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