my birth month
"I was born at the birth of blossoms,
born when all the gardens grew,
on so very soft a morning,
on a morning April-blue.
So I'm Rosa—"
—Rosalia de Castro
There are no children named November.
None, at least, that I know.
Are sunny days so pallid, chill, and few
That not a one can bear the name?
Does the notion of impending winter
Dispel the possibility of a namesake?
Does the word itself spell something cold
About the heart, frost about the soul?
I know one whose name was bestowed
Too lightly, too generously with hope,
Ill suited to his nature. I renounce
My name, and wish to be more true
To what I know. Like Ishmael I choose
A name to suit myself. Call me November.
Poetry by jim
Read 305 times
Written on 2017-11-13 at 14:02
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