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Mid-November

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There is no bird in the sky
None perched here
Not one over there
No chirp, tweet or song
Neither and nothing.

Skies gray.
Overcast and dull.
The air is stiff.
The breeze is sharp.
Sun hiding.
Hanging back in shame.

The dog shivers inside.
Tail tucked.
Sluggish and slow.
Noise does not move her.
In an unsettled slumber.
Uncomfortably curled.

The wind whistles
The old door shakes
Gusts disrupt the quiet
Angry bursts
Threatening the house
Beams creak

The fire smolders
And stove cools
Splinters lie in the woodbox
Work calls
The need nags us
So we move

The street is lonely
Pine straw covers the walk
Moss grows over
Fog settles over the bridge
There’s nowhere to be
And no one to see


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