November One's
Wicked westerly winds wakened us--
Wishing winter would wander our way
We weren’t wanting wintry winds which would
Whip our windowpanes.
We weren’t wishing winds to
Wreak wanton waste
A winter wretchedly
Wiping away whatever waited here.
Blows buffeted boughs bending above us.
Building biceps into branches.
Bewildering birds about, who
Saw sparkling sunlight in the East,
Sought safety on the sand,
slumping, seeming to sleep,
Sensing an urge to search southern skies
Safer skies than our November One’s
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