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Poem of the Month: November 2005

 

Praise Song 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.

The Poems of the Month are copyrighted in the names of the individual authors, and are reproduced here for educational and therapeutic purposes.

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