A Sunday Afternoon Poem

November

Perfect gray day
leaves dead or dull green.
Today I go where I want,
fit in,
push through the tall weeds in my old coat
not hurting a thing.
Most birds long gone -
mosquitos frozen out.
Down the creek, one muskrat
hunts for food under a fallen box elder.
I stand on the bank
content but lonely,
no friend along, no way
to celebrate the good news.

~ Warren Woessner
(from "Storm Lines")

Warren Woessner is Senior Editor of poetry magazine, ABRAXAS.
His most recent collection of poetry is Clear All the Rest of the Way (Backwaters Press). Warren is a part-time resident of Edgartown and plans to steadily increase both his on-island writing and birding time.