The Full Moon Of November

The full moon of November


is

away

above the clouds.

Thin fingers

of

trees

scratch

the

sky

as

roots dig

deep

in

beds of fallen

blooms,

leafs,

flowers.

All the roses

silent.

Yet rage

in the

change of seasons.

Soft as the rains

that

shall soon

be

snow.

In the light of

the

Moon of November

Muted

never silent.

And on the

other side

of

the

moon.

Ever shine on.

As ever be well, with love, Stephen Craig Rowe