November-bared the branches
of our ancient maple moans;
sated with her fire faded
she sighs and droops her sap
deeper, deeper into the soil,
she groans and let the earthworm
coil his hunger ’round her root,
he hugs her winter core,
as she falls asleep,
snores and dreams
that those seeds she shed will hatch
to bring a sapling youth of maples
’round her feet, later when
she’s rested and the winter’s left.
Today Sanaa, hosts at dVerse and asks us to write poetry about November. During the last few days we have really moved into darker times and I can just hope for brightness to come back.
November 3, 2020