November Songs

Don Iannone, November Poem, Winter Poem

Rust colored leaves
Lonesome naked trees
Waving branches, wild dancing fingers
Reaching upward, gray skies, dark clouds above

Early snow, sparse gatherings here and there
Thin streams of streaky smoke
Lazily drifting from red brick chimneys
A sorrowful wind howls cold and lonely

In the distance, two bright red cardinals
Chirping November songs back and forth
Songs of plenty, winter solitude, thanksgiving
Melodies reunited strangers sing

I hope I never forget
How October brought us here
Just to hear the wind
And strangers sing November songs

12 thoughts on “November Songs

  1. Interestingly (at least to me), I just read that, although Lincoln’s son Robert was supposed to be at the theater with his Father the night of the assassination, he stayed home and missed it. However, he was present at both Garfield’s AND McKinley’s assassinations…
    (how many s’s are there in that word, anyway?
    anyway… nice photos…!

  2. Today at the retreat,a poem came to me as I was sitting. I examined it afterward and saw that it refers to unpleasant sensations or emotions or thoughts, acceptance, respect, wonder, and the ever present Presence that’s revealed in their wake:


  3. Beautiful! Thanks!
    Nice photos, too.
    A friend of mine saw that game on tv when Herb got the line drive from Gil. May they both be happy!

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