November – suspended Hung in the air between hot and cold Warm and cool Comfort and discomfort The warm richness of October Melting down into the blues, greens, purples of December. We knew she was coming – We know every year – The green leaves turn brown The brown leaves fall, revealing the scars and knots and imperfections Hardened and vulnerable An exposé. But she doesn’t stop there – November, she starts to turn inwards She begins to reminisce To reflect To thank To give Unearthing the discomforts veiled by the summer – Elections, misconstrued historical lessons, Awkward conversations over turkey – She unearths and unveils, plays all of her cards, Sits back, and Smiles at the game of the year – At the wild suspension of it all.
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Love it! A transitional time that you described so well. Great title.