November is a splendid month.
The quiet child, no big fuss,
a corner on the calendar
before we make the turn for winter,
time to pause and reconsider.
Maples shedding leaf confetti--
summer yellows, pumpkin orange
beckon us to bid farewell.
Blink--another season's gone.
The air is Margarita chilled.
Breathe in deeply, drink your fill,
quench your thirst for cooler seasons.
Don't explain; you have your reasons.
Gusts of wind bring leaves to life
in haunted swirling circles,
stirring memories long forgotten.
Have I passed this way before?
All at once the trees are bare,
solitude in silhouette,
a leaf yet clinging here and there--
stubborn little orphan-ettes.
Branches naked, nest abandoned,
warblers heading places Latin.
Half an ounce of beating wing--
such a tiny fragile thing!
Life is dying so it seems.
In the graying daylight,
Why is death so beautiful?
Diana Mercedes Howell
Diana Mercedes Howell is a Bellevue resident who writes poetry, short stories, and narrative nonfiction.
SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to email@example.com. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
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