Song of November 28th
in all the stillness
of mid-morning
a well-played song
brown leaves still
hang on branches of trees
and I figure
all that is going to fall
has fallen
but the tree still
hangs onto life
I sit at my laptop
a blank page
faces me
on the screen
and as it flickers
all it asks from me
is a poem
that’s all
a poem
but it must be
true to itself
and as I run
through my mind
I see a litany of faces
of the all the loves
I've known
and in a moment of silence
I must admit
that I still love them all
but the room is still
heat rises from a vent
to ease the chill
I feel in my bones
I know winter is near
I look out the window
and see a sparrow
hop across the lawn
and something inside says
I’ve seen it before
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