Northwest November

It’s that time of year


Rivers rise and flood over their banks

Gray torrents of currents

Raindrops pour down


To fill the earth with puddles and mud


Clouds fill the sky with slate and gray and white and black

Swirling and twirling

Chasing one other across the horizon

Fighting to envelope the sun


As long as possible


The winds howl and whistle and buffet

Pressing and pushing then pulling and twisting

From the south warm and refreshing

From the north cold and bitter


Waves rise and crash and spray

Bay matches sky in slate and gray and white swirls and twirls

Chasing one another toward the edge of the sea

Tumbling back out toward the islands

To crash once more upon the colorless beach


Trees sway and wave and twist An incessant dance with the wind

Pouring down leaves and twigs that still remain

To flood the land once more in a blanket of brown and gold confetti

The only color remaining


Northwest November


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