A November Morning

John Atkinson Grimshaw, A November Morning

A November Morning

The sky is first lemon, then orange,
the air whispers with dry citrus humor
as we crunch through the russet leaves
of last year’s promise,
heels shuffle-tapping on cobblestones
that cover the detritus of centuries.

A single leaf falls, silently like the “e”
on hope. Or love. The sunrise is a question
echoed by birds in short chirps and longer trills.

You take my hand. I let you. We walk on.

A poem for my ekphrastic prompt on dVerse today. This painting makes me think of paths in Old City Philadelphia.

60 thoughts on “A November Morning

  1. A wonderful poem, Merril. I love your images of personification.
    …the air whispers with dry citrus humor
    … The sunrise is a question
    echoed by birds in short chirps and longer trills.

  2. You take my hand.
    I let you. We walk on

    A morning full of promise for a loving couple out for that healthy
    morning walk. How nice Merril wonderful wordcraft!

    Hank

  3. Wonderful poem Merril! Especially loved this line my friend! “A single leaf falls, silently like the “e”on hope. Or love.”👍🏼 I chose the same image, its bleakness impossible to resist.🙂✌🏼🕊❤️

  4. This poem felt serene, I have read through the comments and I am jumping on the wagon “A single leaf falls, silently like the “e”
    on hope.” Every now and again we create words that make you ponder on. You have done that here. Great piece you have here ❤

  5. Each of your poems make me gasp with pleasure, but this one – double gasp. Just truly beautiful. “dry citrus humor” – oh my lord, yes! And the single leaf falling like the “e” from hope and love. Just brilliant. Thank you!!

  6. falls like that silent e– how I love it. And just like the grammar rule of the silent e, which magically turns the first vowel long, we exhale long at the sight of the ground carpeted in color. Love it. So beautiful, Merril– ahhhh! Great poem.

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