Photograph by Elaine Reardon
Tail end of autumn
the in-between time
bare maples branches
dry leaves scuttle
A young bear pushes his nose
into heaped up leaves
poking through for acorns
coyotes howl late afternoon
Once twilight falls barred owls
call right up until bed time
The landscape turns brown and grey
Scattered red berries
dried purple grapes
winter hasn’t emerged yet
although she’s expected
Garden plots are cleared
in anticipation of her arrival
like a tide line between sand and sea
November separates seasons
Of life pushing out of seed and egg
before returning to ground
November waits for those last geese to fly
holds her cards close to her chest
Listen to the water ripple against the shore
and honor Manannán Mac Lir
I have not beaten gold into form
but I place an offering in the water
“November” is from Elaine Reardon’s first chapbook, The Heart is a Nursery of Hope.
Smoky Quartz 