November

   

 

 

Twisting, swaying, saying goodbye,  as the quilt unravels leaving her bare. 

Though she still tells stories, ones of passageways into another land, we question her resolve. 

Look at you patchwork of gold, red, brown, ombré of eternal sky, You still stand proud despite being bare.  

"Come dance under me," says she.  "Come away with me like the wind, no regret, no second thoughts."

 Crystal oceans flash in the shape of almonds, smile makes the sun blush, and Lothlorien speaks her name. 

To say I adore her in this moment, that sly mischievous grin beckoning me to reenter the house,

adore captures but a blink of my heart.   

the soil needs tending, the wind bites, and the still, the hens keep scratchin' & peckin'

 

Do you hear how she is wooing us to dance?  Do you feel her warmth though bare? Can you hear her secrets through the wind?  

The small child can because she has never tasted inhibition.  

Kamille Scellick