Ah, November. A friend has said that he goes into hibernation mode in these days. Curling up, quiet, reading, living off the fat of thought.
I wrote two poems, nearly ten years ago, which reflect slightly different ways of living with November, the darkening of the earth's cycle of seasons.
November's Hope
when November sings its grey
somber skies
and light is gone by five
creeps into thoughts
the lush green of may
and long warm evens
to ward through the cold day
when November pales and frosts
to silver
bitter-ended leaves once green
creeps into dreams
paths that mountain-tossed
are laced with spring beauties
and greenest moss
when November ices in the edges
and calms
the wild field with a skin of snow
creeps ever a hope
that deep within the hedges
of darkest night will quicken
light and warmth to grow
The Down Time
wending our way to the down time
each seeking to find the inner strength
to wait out the dark
love the dark says the poet Rilke
go into it and let it gather you
touch the energy of all the beings
not shut out by light
who among us has courage in the dark
listen,
and when the wild things bark and howl,
step outside the lighted space
and gather in their energy
for we and they are God's
and faith in the boundless dark
will keep us through the down time
I would like to also say thank you, Denise Ruiz, for the privilege of working on Seeker. To receive the creations of the writers whose work appears in my mail-box, sometimes almost magically, and then to meld them into an issue is a pleasure. And I thank all of them for the works of their hearts that they choose to share.
Cherie Staples
Heed the winds and the waters, the lights of sun and moon, be here now.