NOVEMBER AS MEDITATION

In the lull between seasons, an absence of season.
The sky shows it: limitless grey or hard, polished blue,
the autumn drama of clouds and leaves, over.

Color was a moment. Trees reborn now
in nuances of brown and gray bear the suspiration
of wind alone rattling long, dark branches.

There may be rain at night. A cold dampness
that darkens the road, casts the odd shadow
on steps, a reminder, say, of weather, or an idea

barely grasped: how things long to be nothing
but their own isolate, lonely selves, released
from the burdens of direction and desire

like the brown field devoid of either growth or decay
or the singular dry leaf, free in the random wind.

Michael Dobberstein teaches literature, publications design and writing courses at Purdue University Calumet in Hammond, IN.