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| Eastern white pine |
NOVEMBER
(by Catherine
Chandler, first published in Measure Volume
VIII, Issue 1, 2013)
November is a
season all its own—
a month of saints
and souls and soldiers. Snow
will soon white
out a fallacy of brown.
It is a month of
waiting, lying low.
November is a
season all its own—
a time for turning
back the clock as though
it’s useless to
pretend. A dressing-down.
Thin ice entices
me to touch and go.
November’s neither
there nor there, but here
in dazzling dawns
that dissipate to grey;
here in the
tilting asymmetric branch
and sharp note of
a towering white pine where
the pik and
churlee of a purple finch
can either break a
heart or make a day.
Click HERE for information and audio of the purple finch.
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