november
barely made a hush
when passed outside my door
as traces
of the winter
tempted me

quiet slept
wrapped in snow –
somewhere near the road
but further from the world
than needed be

to see the stars
they aren’t the same
as bright from near the city
I wonder sometimes
lately what you know

magic flies
the liquid night –
on wings of never touching
luna does her best
to stay away

press my words
against the cold –
wherever love is still
wondering the reasons
we were come

just beyond the promise
where spring
her wait is done –
seeds of our november
yet to bloom

. . .