The End of November

I remember the end of one November When my urge To see the forest trees Was unbreakable. The leaves and the trees Were still lively and red But still and half way dead. Discovering fallen trees Ancient mounds And new paths with distant sounds. It was hard to carry on home Where my other soul Laid on my chest Like the still winter trees Deemed to rest. I remember the end of that November When his string Seemed unbreakable. Maybe in a few years or so But not today or tomorrow or ever. I remember the ends of November When he went over yonder Swimming in our streams Lying in the summer’s heat Tugging on the leash Gobbling on nature’s sweets Galloping to wherever we may meet Again.