There are so many crisp, perfect, and wistful poems about November. It’s hard to choose just one, isn’t it? But here’s a short one I return to every year. (And it’s in the public domain, yay!)
November Night
by Adelaide Crapsey
Listen …
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
13 comments:
Good old Adelaide Crapsey! She could really write a cinquain like nobody's business. "November Night" is a good return-read.
I love this! I was looking for a November poem recently and ... here it is...right here. Perfectly perfect.
Thanks for sharing, Karen. Love the line breaks and "frost-crisp'd" - a perfect poem!
Tabatha, yes! Cinquain queen. :)
Perfectly happy to perfectly accommodate, Linda! :)
Rose, I love "frost-crisp'd" too — I can see that/feel that in my bones!
Love this poem! Adelaide capture so much, espcecially with her "frost-crisp'd." I will look for more of her work! Thanks, Karen!
Perfect November poem, Karen! Thank you. "Frost-crisped" is lovely.
This poem, short and elegant, says it all about this month! It perfectly sums up walking through our woods right now. Thanks!
I am imagining the sound, right now, as leaves break off and fall. Such a lovely poem and image!
* Monica, enjoy your wanderings through her work!
* Susan, happy to add a little perfection to your November. :D
* Carol, here's to a frost-crisp'd walk soon!
* Janice, yes, can't you just hear it?
November perfection with that beautiful photo and evocative poem. Joining the praise for "frost-crisped." :)
lovely. I love the last two lines. I can hear and feel the leaves falling.
Post a Comment