NOVEMBER RITE

© 2020 Melissa Jackson Brister All Rights Reserved
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November comes
footsteps fall softly.
The echo of silence
the shore deserted.

The clatter and roar of humanity
summer’s own
washed away
sand, damp and untrodden.
The solitude compelling
enticing a few,
coaxing them from their shells.

Wandering in misbegotten dreams.
Those who know the sea
in her somber grace
cherish the grey face and solemn wind.

Those whose joy knows melancholy,
who wonder why
it is always easier to misunderstand
than to understand.
Those who can fathom
a thousand reasons how,
only to awaken and ask
the inevitable why.

November rites
Solace in the mist.
In the singular experience
of ocean and November.