November 2
(“You have encircled me; you have placed your hand on me.”
Psalm 139:5)
Pick a
day of the week or choose
a season.
Walk the sleeping fields where the cut alfalfa
hugs the loam. Breathe the autumn air, both
gloomy and inviting. Watch the leaves barely
awake,
the last of the year. Gone from green to oxblood
and orange, they hang on until the last breath sends
them
fluttering like messages from the gods. The
fog carpets the hills, a screen behind which
the lady-in-waiting prepares for
the coming spring.
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