November Sky
Dec 23, 2020
My mind
Is as watchful and
Hard as the November sky
It is a season of
Emptiness, a season
Without nuanced design, save for the
solid and spiraling limbs of trees bursting
Forth on a grey velveteen sky
Words hang breathless mid-air and
Brief sentences accent
The soulful silence hidden in
The soil.
I am isolated and
Solitary but I am
Not alone; breathless as I
Welcome the cold and the clarion
Call to accept the silken brutality of the season —
Surrounding me, the way light seems
To break molecules, they way I have been
Broken and reformed, and how the season
Seems to seep a savage neutrality, viciously tranquil and bestial —
Another new dawn, full of returned
Vengeance and sacrilege –
And yet, sacred, all the same.
