It’s been snowing with falling temperatures
For two days in November. An embezzler,
This month absconded during one short night,
Betraying our trust that the year’s not quite
Over. It’s too early for snow and wind-chills
We think, but November disagrees and shrill
Weather is here. The end of the year is closer
Than we expect, and we’re gratefully getting older.
I am November, an aging pensioner
Who’s shocked by the silent and sly escolar
Who slithered into my life taking a huge bite
Out of my future. I sit, contemplating a rewrite
Of stupidities that merit poison pills,
And my time runs short. November, I’ll
Erroneously think, gives me one more chance.
My year’s not over. But the dance,
The span of a lifetime’s match play, nears its conclusion.
All I can do is flinch at mortality’s intrusion.