November song (from Out and Back)

When the autumn wind bends from the north,

the quick low clouds vex the laten sun,

the poplars stand sentinel over the ravine, and

the sudden just-cold teases your nose with the

notion of colder yet to come,

the presence of autumn, without words, without

nostalgia, only a great familiarity of reflection welcomed.

Fall back, says the old familiar force; it’s colder now.

Time to find your place of warmth that says, so sharply

in this less forgiving clime, how blessed you are.

Pressing against an envelope, 

some boundary closer than it’s been.

Enter the grocery store, as the sun starts to touch

down through the scrim of tree lace at the horizon:

where else does life exist? Those unborn are waiting to enter, and

those departed are just that, gone. 

The only inhabitants now are us, the shoppers,

until we find ourselves suddenly near the door,

pushing our carts toward the beyond, thinking

I thought this errand would take longer, 

but here we are outside the Acme.  

And it’s over.