November’s love came crisp and cold,

a Hudson breeze blowing leaves

across the stones of the old road-


clear as the jewels of your visage,

which somehow, just as I froze,

made me warm again, like coffee

with no cream, like the exultant

removal of the coat and hat, the cold

air there and gone but here


you chase the chill away and leave

only a dark autumn evening,

sequestered from starlight,

transient and timeless


One Response to “”

  1. bill murphy Says:


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