November Days

The sky looms overhead in heavy slate grey
Bordering autumn with a blanket of calm
Lines drawn now, separating light, azure days of summer
From grave and serious moments inherit in the dying of the leaves.

Groups of geese fly in roundups overhead, practicing
Perfecting their formations for the journey ahead
Their excitement feeds the air with expectation…
There is a waiting mood blowing in the breeze.

I wait as well, with a wintry acceptance while my car
Has her yearly oiling, an oil change and smooth tires
Replaced with big, gripping, safe ones, prepared
For the snow gusts, the ice storms, and winds to come.

The garage sits in a matching grey décor, melding
With the sky, quiet in its reflective stance, molding
Itself into landscape, cold, dreary, but necessary
“Must get the job done; it is time; let’s be ready.”

The geese are shifting, ever moving, rising to the heavens
Tonight they are out in droves, all the leaves are gone
The big birds land in the freshly plowed fields, dive-bombing
Showing off, loving their prowess, eager to be on their way.

I always feel kind of left behind… I am left to weather the storms
Figuratively and in reality, my car gears up like the geese on hefty tires
The geese rise once more from the fields, forming their military lines
Each gets on their way, functioning as they must, they are gettin’ ready!

My car engine hums, the tires crunch on frosty gravel, my fingers are cold on the wheel
The hind geese honk with encouragement to their forerunners, calling “All aboard!”

cailin raine