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The Sweet Touch of November
The shorter days of November
remind me of picnics,
and the cranberry jams’
sugary taste on the tip of my tongue.
The golden, salmon-pink rays
and tangerine sunsets.
Visible on the horizon of the lake
like a mirror staring through.
Just waiting, waiting-
for me (as I run.)
The leaves crunching under my combat boots,
crackling (almost like
Cruella De Vil)
The fresh breeze
tells me to fly,
Fly away
away,
back to the welcoming dancing glow of flames
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