The Month is November

 

The month is November,

and the light is reclusive

from this frost-bitten wood,

and the trembles of folks

with sunny dreams; carrying

on down the sidewalks and slick roads.

 

The cloud doesn’t know much else but

to swell, pour, and move – just as I.

 

Everything must carry on.

The light must go today

just so we can appreciate

it tomorrow.

 

And there is dread and relief in

knowing that when you go,

everything will carry on

without you.

 

Thank God

the fate of the world

doesn’t depend on

my well-being.

Things aren’t always

so well these days,

but I’m carrying on.

Irvin Lee is a 21-year-old writer and a native of Chicago who now resides in the state of Indiana. For updates on upcoming works, follow him on Instagram @inkerpoet