November already, Autumn on my back,

Now where is there to look?

Eyes closed or stare through black.

Darkness gives life a break. Trees, thickets and slugs pause,

Humans expected to continue, power on through this icy bitter world.

The sleep of trees and the boom of lights, fizzing, illuminating a path to artificial heat,

And the drying of external cells crispy, heading where?

Winter.

Small brains and scales, retracting into shells,

Bright little tortoise children. Only to recharge like  i phones.

Helpless in the mist of seasonal change, amongst a wake of light.

Days like light sandwiches.

Black and cold and night.