For November

Winter in her house of stones, on the edge of the coniferous forest, plays with my heartstrings, my soft little bones full of wanting. Been longing for snow more than ever, my heart might explode. It might, it shall. Leaning into her I wish and plead, even burned a spell in the chimney hoping that the smoke would carry my words, my desires, to the skies, to the North wind’s palace.
All I want to see is white, all I want to feel is cold, and never has it been more clear than when November speaks in pine needles, rotting apples and the lingering imprint of the ghosts sitting on its threshold blowing fog over the days.

(from Dream Work by Mary Oliver) 

 (from Dream Work by Mary Oliver)

Oh November, be kind, and I shall wish on your stars and howl at your moon.


  1. Just magical.. thank you so much.
    Sophie x

  2. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. your words and hers. thank you, you make the coming of winter seem like something precious, even if I hate going into the dark.

  3. Terribly beautiful. I'm sure it won't be long now until your wish is fulfilled...

  4. I've been somewhat dreading winter (since I suspect I have SAD), but your beautiful words make me yearn for it too! I hope you get your snow soon. :)

    I love Mary Oliver; she's one of my favourite poets.

  5. I am at war with myself, the tug of winter both breaks my bones and kisses my cheeks. You, have reminded me the bliss of those poppy-red cheeks. Thank you, you stunning starrified girl.


  6. I took can't wait to see the trees outside my window covered in white and to step on such a cold rug!
    Your words are like tinny shinny emeralds and hers are quite beautiful too


  7. I too have been waiting, my breath freezing in my lungs, staring at the sky and waiting for snowflakes to catch on my eyelashes. It feels late in the season to be yet missing the first snow.

    Ah, but there is nothing quite so magical as a first snow. And when it comes, the wait will have added to its beauty.

    With warmth,
    Kinnery xx

  8. November decays transparent skylines. Bringing our once sheltered flesh into the pocket of a whisper. May we find ourselves covered in cotton, and wool, sipping cider by the fireplace. Let our toes stay wrinkled in warm baths.

    Love your writing, your wit, your wisdom.
    Keep being you.

    hugs (^.^) hope to hear from you *

  9. you and your writing are wonderful. x