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November
by Bruce W Niedt
I.
This mornings rain
has pulled down some of the leaves
that have hung on so long
through a gentle autumn.
Yellow and orange cascade,
joining the wet, downward patter.
He wakes this morning
sitting on the floor by his bed.
He doesnt know how he got there.
Perhaps he reached for a tissue and fell.
Perhaps he got up, sat down, and fell asleep.
He just cant be sure.
II.
The rain has been steady for two days.
Wet carpets of leaves plaster
the street, the walks.
The newspeople say, be careful:
wet leaves are almost as slick as ice.
He rummages through an old shoebox
he keeps in his top dresser drawer
next to his socks.
Inside is a loose collection of items,
but he cant remember what hes looking for.
III.
Leaves have heaped into wind-whipped piles
on the front lawn.
Squirrels forage for acorns,
dodging cars as they dart across the street.
He cant remember his daughters name.
He doesnt know what day it is.
His family calls the doctor
and an ambulance spirits him away.
IV.
It is raining again, heavier this time.
Leaves litter the sidewalk, and stains
like blast shadows, or the ghosts of leaves.
When they ask him how he is doing,
he says he is waiting for a bus,
and calls his wife, dead eleven years.
V.
The rain has become a noreaster
leaves scramble like pieces of a hurricane.
He can no longer feed himself,
and rarely bothers to talk.
VI.
Today all the trees have been stripped of leaves.
Today there is a breathing tube in his throat.
11/19/2002 Posted on 11/19/2002
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Audrey M Scott on 11/20/02 at 01:01 AM yes, poignant indeed, it is a real heart tugger and though I liked every line, I couldn't help but attach to the growing intensity toward dying...in the lines "It is raining again, heavier this time.
Leaves litter the sidewalk, and stains
like blast shadows, or the ghosts of leaves."
Great job, thanks for sharing. |
| Posted by Cathlyn Cartier on 11/20/02 at 03:53 AM Typo Check section IV "... he days he is waiting..." Wonderful poem, poignant, meaninful... the parallel between the autumn leading to winter, and his life is very powerful... the form is just as powerful.... Another excellent work Bruce. |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 11/20/02 at 01:13 PM You've described the seasons of earth with the seasons of life here... very poignant and powerful. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/21/02 at 02:10 AM This so sadly has Alzheimers written all over it. You have caught the hopelessness and helplessness in this emotional portrayal underscored with the very effective symbolic use of the seasonal change. |
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