November

Vacancy greets me,
as does the sallow, smokey sky.
Time is frozen.
An eerie stillness creeps towards me.

Everything looks bland.
the muted brown trees,
the washed out streets—
they’re all so dull.

I pity the sun as it struggles
to split through its gloomy prison.
It may brighten the murky heavens,
but it will never be completely free.

This is no place for its warmth.
It doesn’t belong here in this chilly gloom.

The forlorn honking of geese
interrupts the unnatural quietness.

They flock to places of heat and cheerfulness,
places the sun must long for,
places I will have to survive without

for months to come.





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