Surrender

by Serena Peachey

1.
November, November
 cold and brown, brown and old.
Falling, falling
 old and dead, dead and cold.

In November I remember
 All the things I could have done.

2.
What shall I do with you, November?
Flagging, doubting, every year?
Shake my finger?
Tagging, linger.

Look on God.

Not what my hands
  have done…
Not what my hands have done?

3.
His voice dispels the gloom,
And now my soul
can drop its head
rake its leaves into the wind

burrow
   down and
      resting, wait.

And see what God will do.

Serena likes words.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy