Contemplating an Afternoon Nap, November

The grasses are honey
and swaying liquid light
where the swamp chirped and croaked
last summer, fire flies twinkling
and flirting with the night.

The bones of these slender bodies
chatter in the breezes now,
barely able to speak
except to balance between the whisper
of November shivering
and the howl
when the darkest blizzard
is yet to come.

I huddle with my strong tea
while the ocean of honest autumn
laps at the shore of my consciousness
and begs me to close my eyes for a few moments.

It is enough to rest
while the afternoon
gulps and rushes off,
slamming the door
before another day escapes.