“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

11.01.2008

Blue November

November arrives slightly blue,
soft & sleepy,
slightly restless.

It creeps in with news of a dear aunt's death,
wearing black stockings,
tiptoeing across cold wooden floors,
hands on its heart.
It slides in through opened windows,
and suns itself on the sill,
belly up,
preparing for this too soon winter.
It nestles next to your hand
under the pillow,
attempting silence,
but tickles you with childhood memories
and
laughs when you awaken afraid.

The colors of October are yesterday,
forever gone, never here,
it whispers.

8 comments:

  1. Sending you a big, warm hug...on this slightly blue November...

    xo

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  2. Celeste - I so appreciate it. I feel it. Thank you.

    Debi

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  3. What beautiful prose! I am so impressed with your haunting words. Love to read stuff like that. Full of meaning and evocative.
    Brenda

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  4. Brenda - Thank you so much. Funny that I thought I wasn't all that bothered by my aunt's passing, and yet . . .

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  5. I told my husband yesterday that I felt someone's "blueness". I never know the source of where it comes from, but I knew it wasn't mine. I'm thinking I must've felt yours...

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  6. This is such a perfect description of November. I have never been a fan of this month...definitely many shades of blue exist in its days.
    But I am determined to find its beauty, and it began with these soulful words.

    xo

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  7. I am so sorry you lost your beloved aunt. There are no words that can really help with loss, but isn't the love that lives on such a beautiful thing?

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  8. Paula - It probably was mine. I was pretty down.

    Jaime - And it's my birthday month! LOL! But it's always been a kind of hurry up time - you know, getting ready for Christmas & Thanksgiving ( do you have Thanksgiving!), etc., etc. It's never been a calm month. Plus it starts getting colder. I really don't like that. :)

    Relyn - There was a particularly moving moment at the funeral - she had 5 sons, all of whom decided to be the pallbearers, saying that she'd brought them into the world, so they would take care to see her out.

    Debi

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come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .