Adieu November
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just sitting here with a wind driven rain pelting against the windows and the Red Maple outside bowing to the howling gale.
A cold hard rain soaks the tree
denudes its flailing branches
stamps a season's exclamation point
on the edge of approaching frost.
Leafs flutter - stringless kites adrift
floating on a mindless wind
whistling through shivering steeples
mocking the silence of dormant church bells.
Wet feathered sparrows taunt the wind
cling to the hope of trembling limbs
gentle strength against the fury
acquiescence without surrender.
Darkness falls on a raging gale
shrieking in its emptiness
seeking an unknown destination.
A cold hard rain soaks the tree.
John G. Lawless
11/30/2020
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2020
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