Friday, November 9, 2007
Light of November
It creeps in like a bold sniper
across the linen bed spread
until I realize I'm not alone.
Long shadows run to dark corners
away from it's piercing warmth--
later they will come back to play,
but for now they are content to sit
and wait for the long night ahead.
Each shaft of light is a spear
aimed at our eyes and hearts;
like the shadows, we will wait.
But only when I hear your voice
I know for certain I'm not alone
in the cold light of November--
and we both know it's time to go
undercover, to the dark corners.
Wind moans like a forgotten ghost
snow swirls in its whirling arms
the light grows weaker by the day.
Everything tells us to stay here
in this warm bed, with these arms
and hands and half-open eyes.
But the best dreams are those
hidden in the blinding light of day.
This is the season to hibernate;
no time to lie in open territory.