November’s Bloom

The pines
outside my window
whispered softly in the wind,
shared conversations
scented balsam,

and I, curious
as I am,
sat on the warm side
of the window,

Of course, their words,
spoke in another tongue,
escaped me
but there was something
warm about them.

Even November
has its bloom,
and there it was,
a russet coated doe standing
tiptoe to reach a pine cone,

a scene created
sans any human hand,
a scene that only God
and dreams
could command.

18 thoughts on “November’s Bloom

  1. jantanleo

    Beautiful sharing time w/ you this Sat. AM. Sarah, you’re a star. My vanilla-flavored coffee partnered with your poem is grand. It’s just grand time. Thanks.


      1. jantanleo

        It’s 39 degrees here, a sunny-side-up kind of morn. As I step on the front porch, most likely I will smell Tea Olive essences from the corner bush. Have you ever inhaled that scent? Amazing. Simply.

        1. Jan,

          I have smelled that awesome scent only through your poems at the original pub.
          You wrote one about your porch, its swing and the scent of the tea olive shrub.
          Do you remember it?

  2. gwendrina

    Hi Sarah

    You had me from line one with this exceptionally beautiful poem — “the pines whisper”. Indeed, they do and I believe trees have a language of their own and they are spiritual guardians of not only the forest and the animals, but also of humans — if we are willing to sense and listen to what they indicate or say. And then, the sight of that reddish deer near the pine is a poem within self, but as a poet you so beautifully bring that experience to life and remind me of when I saw a similar sight in other days when I lived in upper NY state. This was such a treat to read this morning. i am there in the scene , savoring every minute.

    btw — here’s a link to a really fascinating article from The Smithsonian which discusses the ability of trees to talk to each other and possibly.

    thought you might enjoy this!
    Take care

    1. Wendy,

      I read the article beginning to end. It seems that scientists agree there is a symbiotic relationship that allows a forest to survive but that it is merely a hormonal reaction and not purposeful or aware. Hmm…sounds human to me! I think one of the greatest human errors is to dismiss the importance of beings different from our own, whether it be plants or animals or aliens. As for trees, whatever it is, it seems to work (until humans disrupt the natural order). Thank you so much for the link. The pines outside my window are flocked with snow this morning. They are absolutely gorgeous. There is a slight breeze and they are dancing with it. I put on my winter regalia and went outside and I felt happiness in the air. Our first snow of the season and the trees, the birds and me (p.l.) are as excited as children. There is a harmony amongst us that is not purposeful but we are surely aware. Oh those beautiful trees!

      Many thanks to you, Wendy, for your wonderful work, for your awareness and empathy and for your friendship. (and of course, for your kind response to my efforts.)


      1. gwendrina

        Hi Sarah

        So glad you enjoyed the article and those snow-ermined trees sound so beautiful. Here, in the winter we have mountains in the distance where snow falls upon them in the higher elevations and they are gorgeous when this happens. I have a pine tree in my back yard and it brings much shade, comfort and inspiration.

        Thanks so much for reading the article and sharing your beautiful poetry!
        my best always

    1. I thought that was you in that scene. 😊 So good to cyber share a steaming cup of vanilla chai on this day of our first measurable snow of the season. Thank you for being here.

  3. BoardFlak

    A pleasant scene for a November reading; The doe is for me the best part. We have apple trees in our back yard, and we sometimes see deer underneath the trees eating the fallen apples.

  4. The doe made my day too. This morning there was a squirrel out there gathering pine nuts. It was the biggest one I have ever seen (and I grew up in rural Maryland where it is rumored that in the ‘olden days’, squirrels were so big they were sometimes used in tandem to pull sleds. This fellow was a whopper. At first I thought it was a cat, until it flipped that bushy tail and began its clown routine.

  5. BoardFlak

    It must be a year for large squirrels; there was one outside my window about a week ago which was much larger than the ones we usually get.

    I had not heard that about squirrels pulling sleds. It sounds like there’s a poem in there somewhere.

    1. Michael,

      A friend who has a farm about twenty miles from where I live says the squirrels there are huge, so I guess this is the year of the squirrel. I challenge you to write a ‘giant squirrel’ poem!


  6. Stillness is not necessarily static, my lady, a rarity wrestled with in this piece. We are whirlwinds in the heart, even though motionless at a windowsill. A poignancy not lost on me, Sarah…thank you.

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