It’s one of those days to wrap up warm and get out of doors for a November ramble in some misty moisty fields and woods with our poet Jane Monach, on Day 705 of the Daily Poems.
November ramble
a rough sack smells of old smiles and laughter
treads pathways into muslin fog
finds soft wind
a beech tree floats its leaves to damp ground
frets the sky under grey clouds
stands naked
a skeleton leaf slips into the velvet of a hollow trunk
sips moisture from new cracks
sits unstirred
Jane Monach