Even though you can’t see
the fifteen degrees
that tromped out of the woods
yesterday with as many
miles of winds each hour,
their departure left today
hunched over,
knocked into
a new category
where shoulders
that once opened
to warmth and the smell
of dry leaves baking
turn heavy,
and the cheeks that got
warm from chasing
a ball and the last minutes of sun
turn a cooler shade of red,
bracing as they must
against scarier air —
a day only minutes shorter
than yesterday
but one that warns
instead of inviting,
“Go in. Please.
Leave me alone.”
What was your weather like today? How did it affect your mood?
————
After casting aside my poetry hat for far too long, my NaBloPoMo plan is to write a poem — and to take and post a photo — every day in November, spending less than half an hour on both. The hope is to drill down, to focus, to look for and create beauty.
Previous Posts:
Day 1: Eleven One
Day 2: Shoreline
Day 3: Damage
Day 4: On Parenting and Sunrises
Day 5: When will we?
Day 6: Voting Line
Day 7: What I want my children to learn from me
Day 8: Haiku
Day 9: Reminders
Day 10: Routine
Day 11: Lux Esto, in moderation
Day 12: Family Photo Shoot at (nearly) 4o
Day 13: Siblings
Day 14: Point of View
Day 15: Background
Day 15: Greener Grass
Day 16: Journey
Day 17: From two to twelve
Day 18: Baggage
Day 19: Mothering, now and later
Day 20: Expectations
Day 21: Blank canvas
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