Which Season Is It.

November has me in a state of limbo,

lost between the seasons,

still hanging onto fall and our lovely weather,

gazing at the now naked branches,

Are they cold, or are they enjoying their freedom,

no inhibitions, no shyness,

Where do I fit in,

bundled in a coat, staring at the sky,

night has bestowed the stars overhead.

I stretch for just a moment,

my limbs like those branches on the trees.

I sit and put my head upon my knees

Realizing the weather and the seasons

will come and go as they please.

Where do I fit in,

Living present , right now,

and remember November is a reminder

that flowers come again in Spring.

That is where I fit the very best.

For now I will soar each day,

So bring it on oh weather.

as kind as you may.

The seasons of life are before us,

reach out to the closest limb

and grab on.

I am in limbo no more.