272 and 273: The Seven Days of November: iv and v

It’s odd that, e’en as Sun retakes his stride,

the morning is resilient despite.

I wake with bones that do not want to hide,

despite the darkness that gives them that right.

I’ve heard, the draftier it is inside,

the better you will sleep, if you are warm.

One’s energy is expertly applied

when opposites subject you to their storm.

And this month’s when I feel it most of all,

most bipolar, perhaps, of any one.

The joys of these, the latter days of Fall,

as Winter joys are on the horizon.

So, go to sleep again, and wait to wake,

enjoy that feeling while you can partake.

~~~

Around, around we smile at the sound

of family talking through their mouths of food,

around, around the great Thanksgiving mound

of bounty—we are in a happy mood.

So human a tradition is this one,

with naught but eating at its barest core.

A lot of us would have a lot more fun

if this was what we valued more than “more”.

But maybe only mental men think so,

who love a quiet shire, or a hole

where badgers or a rat and mole might go,

where laughter is the only proper goal.

I find a day most wholesome and complete

when all we want’s to seat, and eat, and greet.