November drapes the lovers like a shroud;
they long for summer love, so feather light –
a strip of beach, a seagull, half a cloud –
but oh the days of autumn are half night.
So carefree were they up until October
[although the leaves had shown their colors plain]
and ‘though they have grown serious and sober
they both pretend now they enjoy the rain.
How many months to wait out winter’s lease?
[She dare not count for fear he’ll hear her sigh.]
He wishes for a fireplace at least…
a case or two of cognac, whiskey, rye?
Let’s watch to see how summer romance goes
and if it can outlast the freezing snows.