Leaf-flame disappears from trees,
doused into a sodden mass
beneath my boot-clad feet,
kicked until the limp leaves lift
and fall – again.
Drizzle develops into steady rain,
but neighbours are intent on raking
and burning. Pungent billows
permeate lank laundry
on the washing line.
Boots off, safe and dry indoors,
the first fire of the season roars,
releasing smoky memories
of the November morn
when she was born.
Kim M. Russell, 3rd November 2020
This Tuesday, Sanaa is back to stir our muses with some November inspiration from Elizabeth Drew Stoddard, Samuel Longfellow and William Cullen Bryant. She has also included some November dates of historical significance, including 5th November, which is remembered over here as Guy Fawkes Day, when some people celebrate with fireworks. For me, November smells of log fires and bonfires – a smoky month. And my daughter was born in November.
For today’s Poetics, Sanaa would like us to write poems about November and what it means to us.