November
By
J. Linn Rose ©1992-2006
It
is November
And
of her dark hounds bay
To
the north they scent her
Where
she goes in full array
It
is November
Shadows
lean across the day
Children
kick at brittle leaves
Age
folds them in decay
It
is November
And
crisp airs greet a change
Marked
by an amber landscape
Ghostly
fingers rearrange
It
is November
And
my faithful dog has died
What
will I do in this dread season
Without her by my side?