November-Frames

Stark silhouettes etched on backdrops of hasting dusk and tardy dawn... Joy-grief relief of gardens shucked, and turned and tucked beneath the sky...(next year my make-shift grape-arbor needs a serious upgrade!!)😅 Still, stubbled sweeps of harvests reaped and gathered into bins and barns... The morning-tide, a soundless sea that bathes the still-life lea with bronze... Stark silhouettes etched on backdrops of hasting dusk and tardy dawnJoy-grief relief of gardens shucked, and turned and tucked beneath the skyThe heart, a little like a cart by steads of fondest farewells drawnThe wind, a brisk custodian that whisks the brittle leaves awry Still, stubbled sweeps of harvests reaped and gathered into bins and barnsThe morning-tide, a soundless sea that bathes the still-life lea with bronzeThe sudden, sweet tweet-tweet greeting as long-gone feathered friends returnThe brooding tent of heavens bent with imminence of frosty fronds The gaping gate where wonders wait to stun our gaze with grays and brownsBefore the first soft snowflakes waft earthward from welkin worlds aboveThe beauty of spartan landscapes, of nature’s threadbare capes and gownsDuty’s breath-stealing tasks, as thankfulness basks in God’s love Brigadoon of November Noon, funereal fallow-hallowed hushFruit and root cellar shelves and floors festooned with toil and mercy’s tollA heart-string unpreparedly snared on a crab-apple-dappled bushThe swing, bereft of barefoot child, a Masterpiece of Childhood’s Soul Happiness dons kerchiefs and caps; laughter sounds small in fall’s ballroomEach breath emits a puff of cloud, a bit like engines of a trainIn ruddy cheeks and noses November’s kissable roses bloomAs leaves are raked and piled, and the child in each of us wakes again Twilight’s twinkling front porch lights cheer work-weary streams of traffic homeLuxury is a cup of tea, a good book nook, and knitted shawlAnd life is like the savoring of surprise flavours in a poemBecause November sometimes seems to be The Fairest of Them All © Janet Martin As we raked and heaped pile after pile of leaves at my parent's place, we three children of yesterday (my brother, his wife and me) couldn't resist a a flying leap and romp becausesomething about leaf-piles wakes the child in us all. A heart-string unpreparedly snared on a crab-apple-dappled bush...