November On Deck

November On Deck

By David Roth

© 18^th October, 2010

It paces nervously

at the intersection

of the eves of All Hallows

and All Saints

and fidgets with impatience

as the fading blaze

of October drips red and green

in cider orchards

and the mottled orange

of wannabe jack-o-lanterns.

Wrapped in a full length coat

of maple, beech and oak

it blows a frosty kiss

to the boys of summer

and the last mad dash of

hunter-gatherer children

storing up bits of chocolate

in their rosy pink cheeks

like chipmunks before the snow flies.

November waits on deck

peering anxiously over

bundles of cut, baled hay

and stalks of earless corn

that cannot hear the hunters horn

or the wild turkey’s final gobble

or the thrashing throes of death

of the hare or twelve point buck

that meets the shotgun shell.

A cold wind blows

through hill and vale

and whisks away the final glow

of autumn in an icy glaze

when the light at the corner

of witches masks and long dead saints

changes its symbol to ‘walk’

and November steps up to the plate.