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Lawrence Wilson: a poem


November Song


taking the trash down to the wheelie bin

I feel the frost, the first, upon my skin


the cold descends, a kiss, and overnight

the temperature will drop, and it will bite


like arctic foxes, hungry, fierce as ice.

The darkest time is here. We pay the price


for summer twilights lingering too long.

Ah, well. It's time for winter's dark-sky song


as necessary and as sweet

as any rosé wine in August's heat.



Lawrence Wilson’s fiction, poetry and essays have appeared in Albedo One, Agenda, GramaryeInk Sweat and Tears, Three Drops from a Cauldron, One Hand Clapping, Stone, Root and Bone, Best of British, The Poetry of Roses, The Pocket Poetry Book of Marriage, The Pocket Poetry Book of CricketThe Darker Side of Love, on Salon.com and in other journals and collections. His first two collections, The April Poems and Another April, are available on Amazon.

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