Hard Hearted November

poem of an indifferent month

A cold grey mist…
Tiptoes aimlessly about
It’s only companions
A few scudding clouds

That mill thru the sky
And wander without
And cast shadows
Upon farm fields and wilds

Tis the hard heart of November
A month as indecisive as mist
A month so incisive….bestowed
with the caprice of a witch

Which has by mistake
Or perhaps by misgiving
Allowed to endow us
The day of Thanksgiving

And once realized
That a mistake has been made
Takes a cold vow
That this won’t be forgiven

So it beckons to December
In a voice chill and shrill
And bades it remember
And sure December will…

Give ear to November’s
Entreaty so bold…
That December not delay
To bring on the cold

Then reclines November
In supine repose
Gives carte blanche to Jack Frost
To nip anyone’s nose

Pulls up blanket of mist
Lies down her head
Then cooly welcomes December
…Into her bed…