November hymnal (7)

Like walking in the afterwards
I smell October’s grim vanity in the air

and beneath my feet little liquids in stems
of star shaped leaves fret July losses

and beyond that along the stubs of garden cut
a stray moonflower waits like a scout

Oh months I have no more time for you
I know you made everything up till now it was

all you but each of you could see around
the corner of the library December tensing

in the shadows already forgetting why
it will launch out as I walk by and take

the wind out of me and not
one of you warned me