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Bare days of November
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Hyacinth garden Bare days of November no longer a pretender too crowning new heights
Shearing teeth of surrender display dire warnings of terrible bites
as autumn comes and goes, the gift of seeds this harvest it never grows
into sleep we soften and fall, a restful purpose we suppose, nobody knows
each poet intends to affect someone never met in an individual way
but you will not find them here the November winds blew them all away
November ...
keeps spring in immediacy
for it is a prelude to summer here in south africa
it is when days start with sunlight shimmering on ocean
and mountains clear cut in its etch against blue skies
it is when all becomes ripe and potent
and the hadeda cries:
haha haha!
get up! let's share another dive into life!
Myra