nightly drafts nip me I want to be warm again at peace in the dark
faint shapes and shadows the world is a watermark becoming a stain
the morning shimmer holding the world silent, still in its ghostly grip
snowfall in the woods the silence stretches out in all directions
quiet wooded path dried leaves patter as they fall crunch under my steps
the wind pulls at me twisting me into new shapes forcing me to change ******* Participating in tonight’s prompt over at Dverse, for me, when I think of November, I think of change. Whether it’s seasonal or political, I always need to adapt to something!
the siren song calls harmonizing with the dirge of those who listened