“Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn.” ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Fragment 8”

Quai Voltaire
Paris, France, 1981
by Edouard Boubat

                  

Two for Tuesday: November Rain

Old Houses

Year after year after year

I have come to love slowly

how old houses hold themselves—

before November’s drizzled rain

or the refreshing light of June—

as if they have all come to agree

that, in time, the days are no longer

a matter of suffering or rejoicing.

I have come to love

how they take on the color of rain or sun

as they go on keeping their vigil

without need of a sign, awaiting nothing

more than the birds that sing from the eaves,

the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.

~ Robert Cording

                   

November for Beginners

Snow would be the easy

way out—that softening

sky like a sigh of relief

at finally being allowed

to yield. No dice.

We stack twigs for burning

in glistening patches

but the rain won’t give.

So we wait, breeding

mood, making music

of decline. We sit down

in the smell of the past

and rise in a light

that is already leaving.

We ache in secret,

memorizing

a gloomy line

or two of German.

When spring comes

we promise to act

the fool. Pour,

rain! Sail, wind,

with your cargo of zithers!

~ Rita Dove

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