As we come towards the end of the month, is this the time of the great abandonment? On Day 725 of the Daily Poems our poet Anne Stewart sees it all happening too fast and much too soon.
November
The sun too quick to its place this morning,
diamante on a plain Jane.
The North Sea’s bright refrain,
for all the life in it, is grey, unsettling.
The kettle is dirty and needs de-scaling.
That claim of cleanliness
we like to make has stepped out early
with its slip showing.
She’s more tired than I’ve ever seen her.
The whole town’s changing, sloughing off
a skin, the old shops shift and move,
slide in and out of each others’ shoes –
it’s happening. And it’s happening
too fast and much too soon. Darkness,
save me. Give me the slumbering moon.
Anne Stewart