It's hard to understand the beauty of November.
It's hard to look away: the quiet sadness catches
in a ghost hazy trap. It seems time's stopped forever
and heavens fall on earth, mixing night dreams and fact.
This month is like a mage: it can produce fine raindrops
from no material air. Hypnotizing spangles
are levitating slowly. Lots of weightless pellets
erase a subtle line between the gods and man.
by Thea Ariss
08.11.2025
The magic of November
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125110808320
Свидетельство о публикации №125110808320
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