Photo by S. Auberle

This first appeared in Crow Ink...

NOVEMBER 

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,

tumbling down

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.