Poetry Friday: Reel by Barbara Crooker

Rebecca at Sloth Reads is hosting  Poetry Friday today

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November is almost over, and she has drained every bit of color from our landscape.  The cornfields look just as brown and weary as the pastures, even the sky is dull and dreary on most days.  Farm chores begin and end in weak sunlight, and the days seem to drag.  For some reason, I find November and March the hardest months; November signals the onset and real winter and the girding up the body and soul to get through it, and by March (such a long month!) one feels stretched to the point of breaking.  It’s the early crocuses and snowdrops that keep one going – Spring close enough to begin imagining warm sunshine again.

When I read this poem on The Writer’s Almanac the other day, I was reminded of the glorious Fall we’d had, and what it felt like to traipse up and down the pastures with my sheep and dogs in tow.   I did not dance a reel, of course, but I did pause often to delight in the golds and reds and russets.  Now that it’s November, I’m so glad that I did…

Reel
by Barbara Crooker

Maybe night is about to come
calling, but right now
the sun is still high in the sky.
It’s half-past October, the woods
are on fire, blue skies stretch
all the way to heaven. Of course,
we know winter is coming, its thin
winding sheets and its hard narrow bed.
But right now, the season’s fermented
to fullness, so slip into something
light, like your skeleton; while these old
bones are still working, my darling,
let’s dance.

4 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: Reel by Barbara Crooker

  1. I like that poem….
    November is not bad here in PA. March is hard because of the icy rain we can get. So I would say March is my least favorite winter weather month. I used to think winter was the most difficult time of the year to get through. But now a month of 85 + degree days and little rain is just as bad.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This November here in Central Washington state has been more like January, but without the snow. Early wind storms stripped my birch trees and swept the golden glow down the street. The garden faded to brown and grey, and I tend to dress accordingly in brown corduroy skirt topped by a long grey sweater. But the inside of my house still retains favorite fall colors in arrangements of leaves and berries in blue & white containers. I light the candles on the tea table in my drawing room at 4 o’clock and pour the tea. Ahhh…..

    Liked by 2 people

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