Simple Gifts.

Twilight lasts an hour in mid November,

Too dark to read - too light to use a lamp -

The windows burnished bronze turning gold.

School kids love this time of year - it seems,

Kicking up clouds of leaves with dancing feet -

Gold dust smeared with mud on rubber boots.

Not many people are wearing masks today.

We are all so happy we want to show our faces

To smiling strangers - to neighbours we rarely

                                                               talk to -

The weather so mild we do not need our coats.

Perhaps it is the soft breeze - perhaps the vote

                                      in distant Philadelphia

That has filled this London street with happy faces -

Or perhaps it simply is the pastel twilight

Revealing the secret beauty of a place I thought

                                                                I knew.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

November 10th. 2020.

This is the third in a group of fourteen line poems about my responses to November 2020 in my local area.