November's first snow
is soft as warm Pandesal.
Such a sight makes the thorns sleep
as if they had died.
The neighbor's young dog
wears a pink coat and throws her toy
in the flake-filled air. She is a saint
sent to remind me of rivers.
I was in love once, many times.
Seasons arrive with suitcases
holding one beautiful thing and eleven goodbyes.
I am a vase, falling. The earth receives it all.
Shay, your poem is gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteI love this comment but wish I knew who left it. :-(
DeleteSigh. "Seasons arrive with suitcases." Absolutely gorgeous writing. I feel this poem especially.
ReplyDeleteThe first stanza is so flawlessly vivid it's hard to imagine how it can be topped, and then the second rockets by with its superb imagery, followed by the perfect final one. The whole poem makes a stunning string of jewels. Beautiful and soft as that first snowflake in November.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that how love and seasons so often arrive? Full of promise but leave with more than they left behind. Soft and beautiful this one is, Shay.
ReplyDeleteJust perfectly satisfying, Shay. Love to you, my friend. 🩵❄️
ReplyDeleteThis is simply stunning, Shay, so gorgeous. The whole poem is some kind of irresistible sensation of falling. And that killer last stanza:
ReplyDelete"I was in love once, many times.
Seasons arrive with suitcases
holding one beautiful thing and eleven goodbyes.
I am a vase, falling. The earth receives it all."
I am in love with this poem Shay!! The last stanza is beyond amazing!
ReplyDelete