November Madness

The turn of the season brings woodsmoke, damp air and long days. Navy night skies seep into the evenings until there is little to distinguish the dawn from the dusk. Our squash have all been harvested and stored; the logs piled under the eaves and the shutters are hanging squeaking on the rusty hinges once again.

And I miss you.

I know it won’t be for long. I know it has to be done, and that you’ve made sure that I don’t want for anything.

But I want you.

There is nothing that could replace you. No comfort compares to being at your side. I’m like a tree whose limbs have been cruelly cropped without you.

Cut short.

I didn’t know that early bedtimes could be so attractive.
I want to spend those hours chatting by the fire, sharing wine, dreams and love.
Satisfying every connection that we’ve ever made.

That’s why I’ll wait. I’ll be patient! I swear!
I’ll rein in my memories and dole them out when I really need to. I’ll sleep in your sweater, surrounded by your scent and imaging you here.
I’ll store up my news, my grumbles and my lust; and heap them upon you on your return!

And some nights, the coldest ones, I’ll stay up longer, throw on another few logs & be with you.

Can’t wait to see you!
Can’t wait until November is over!
Can’t wait!


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