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There is always that last day,
the one you never want to see
and yet what is more perfect?
This is the day before the day
when November settles in.
This is the day out in the woods
when last silver moths
are winging from branch to leaf,
a day of the last chorus
of swans in the bay.
Today last leaves are letting go,
to the beckoning earth.
Today is the day
I watch a sleek mink
trotting into the forest
fur gleaming dark wet
a fish in its mouth
wriggling in the ecstasy
of November’s little deaths.
© 2010 by Sharon Auberle
Used with the author’s permission.
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Photo by Len Villano
Sharon Auberle is a poet and photographer who lives in Door County, Wisconsin. Author of six poetry collections, her work has appeared in numerous publications and on-line magazines, as well as a variety of anthologies. Sharon served as Poet Laureate of Door County from 2017- 2019; her latest book is Dovetail, a poetry/sketch collaboration with poet and artist Jeanie Tomasko, which won the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Annual Chapbook Prize. Sharon’s earlier years of living in the spare landscapes of the Southwest, and now surrounded by Northern woods and waters, along with interests in Zen, music, and photography, provide her with endless inspiration.
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dajoslyn:
This is a lovely poem - I like it - but I don't really think of November as a series of "little deaths," only rests. Everything is still there, just not evident. Otherwise, how could there be such a bursting forth in spring?
Posted 11/06/2010 10:32 AM
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