Poem of the Month: November 2005

Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there's left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn't cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it's all we have, and it's never enough.

- Barbara Crooker

Journal prompts:

• Write a list poem of praise to something or someone in your life.
  
  
• Look around you at the November landscape. Write a Captured Moment of this day through the five senses. What do you see, smell, hear, taste, touch when you step or walk outside?
  
  
• What "little is left" for you? What are you letting go, or what is slipping away? Name it, and say goodbye.