November Night

It is November night in my beloved South
Leaves of fall hanging from trees
Tired and broken as life itself
Birds of night watch from top branch
Of an elm tree on the corner of
Abandoned road, twisted as rattle snake
Lied on the gray of loneliness
Shattered pieces of moon in a puddle
Of evening rain, left over of an old flame
Forgotten in the heart of ashes
From far away yesterdays
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Whirlwind of a cold front
A traveler from Canada’s frozen feet and face
Rubs its twisted body against shivering window
Open mouth and half closed eyes
Not knowing her past, wondering about future
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A beetle walks slowly on the fallen leaves
Sacrificed to the Goddess of dormant life and cold
In search of companions to forget the bitterness of
The night and whisper of sunrise song
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I, who once was fire, watch from
The shield of my comfort zone
The darkness, scattered on my bike
Leaned back on the tree that has forgotten to live