Deadlines close in on me,
like hostile natives
who see me as some grand buffet.
November lies down over me,
in chilling frost and foggy mist.
These formidable foes
lurk unseen before me,
draped in a fuzzy haze-
but I can hear them
rustle and grunt
inching closer as the autumn wind
frees the leaves of the calendar
and November solidifies into December.
Dark skies open
and winter rains descend.
Will I stand-
bare-assed, in a fashion,
my open mouth slack
gaping up at the dark thunderclouds
and drowning in rain like a stupid chicken,
or will I summon the sense to seek shelter?
A silent tear speaks,
falls from my eye
and blends into the running stream of Time.
The teardrop is totally assimilated,
salt molecules commingling
with the world of spent tears,
trickling into rivulets, creeks, streams, and rivers
making its way to the sea,
turning it ever saltier.
Can my foundations survive the rising tide,
or is it time to build a houseboat
to keep me afloat?
a new winter.
(11- 10- 79)
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED