November

November

month 
of long shadows

at four p.m. 
mine’s oblique
and dark  

not yet rain
trees not yet bare

garden? 
a magnificent 
ruin 
some summer 
roses burning 
above the leaf-litter 
of yesterday’s 
storm

house quiet, still
I watch the twilight 
settle in
giddy with 
the exuberance
of introversion