november sun

the november sun is a rare thing
in our part of the world

light slanting across the roofs
and through the trees

pine trees painted rose
a startling reminder of sweeter times

bring back the fog
wrap us in the cold wet and grey

blanket that we learned
to endure and sometimes even love

a soft darkness that envelops
and hides and lets fields and forests rest

before sun returns with its
relentless brightness and brings

us all back to life

Poetry by Åsa Andersson
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Written on 2013-11-19 at 07:14

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it must be a strange land deeply rooted with Nature

Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website.

Ferenc Inigo Beck
Ah,November. A strange month all-in-all. A perfect piece.

November is the month that keeps us humble. It tests our resolve. For some, it is a respite. I think that is what you've expressed so well.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is very nice. It reminds me of the people I grew up around in Seattle. Too much sun seemed to make them crabby.

Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Some deep inner truths written within the lines here.
The intrinsic conflicts of experience.

Here it's not rare but increasingly absent for days at a time, and when it is here there is nothing warm or comforting about it. I especially like your sixth stanza, I hadn't thought about it in quite that way but it's true and poignant and also hopeful in the renewal that will come after the rest, not only the fields and forest but our own.