A Taste of November

I can still remember, like it was yesterday

Fall in the woods where I grew up

Cold weather closed in early

Leaves in the woods

Turned shades of yellow, orange, red, and brown

What was once a lush woods

Filled with green hollow stemmed weeds

Now becomes blanketed

With a soft silent coating of leaves

The Silver Maple and Butternut next to the house

Dropped their yellow-tan leaves

The quince turned yellow-brown

As the apple trees added color to the scene

With rich deep red leaves…

On the driveway black walnuts still in the hulls

Driven over with car tires

Squishing and shelling

Picking them up, peeling off the excess

While blends of saffron, amber, and walnut stains

Are left on my hands and under my nails

From driveway to furnace room

Down in the basement

The nuts are carried to be dried

Cracked with hammer and brick

I walk through the woods,

With a borrowed single-shot 12 gauge,

Looking in the pit holes for rabbits,

Flushing out a ring-necked pheasant

From the edge of the corn field

Life was simple then,

Rabbits shot were few and pheasants even fewer

But walking through the woods and fields

Was an experience I enjoyed

Just for the sake of being there

The November woods remained stark and bare

For the rest of the winter,

But it’s passing and recurring beauty

Left indelible impressions…

Sometimes I wish I could be there once again.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Sanaa asked us to were a poem about November. I decided to rework a poem I wrote several years ago about Fall in the Woods where I grew up.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com