Thinking of November
Created | Updated Nov 15, 2006
It's the middle of November, and I'm cold
And I'm wet
And I'm miserable
I hate this god-forsaken hell of a month
I've soaked up water
From my toes to my tonsils
From the tips of my hair to my bap.
It's the middle of November
I've walked half a mile
My feet wet-cold, frozen.
It's the middle of November, and it's getting dark
And there's yellow light and steam coming out of that bakery over there...
Soup. Thick.
Coffee, strong and hot.
Crusty bread to dip and to butter.
I've still a feg or two in the box.
Feg smoked.
It's evening in the middle of November.
I'm walking uphill,
and a low-slanting pale gold Sun
peeps over a drumlin's gentle breast
and pokes me in the chest...
Have I ever told you how much I love this month?
And I'm wet
And I'm miserable
I hate this god-forsaken hell of a month
I've soaked up water
From my toes to my tonsils
From the tips of my hair to my bap.
It's the middle of November
I've walked half a mile
My feet wet-cold, frozen.
It's the middle of November, and it's getting dark
And there's yellow light and steam coming out of that bakery over there...
Soup. Thick.
Coffee, strong and hot.
Crusty bread to dip and to butter.
I've still a feg or two in the box.
Feg smoked.
It's evening in the middle of November.
I'm walking uphill,
and a low-slanting pale gold Sun
peeps over a drumlin's gentle breast
and pokes me in the chest...
Have I ever told you how much I love this month?
