November

It all was golden, the last perfect day,     the thirty-seventh one we’d had this fall.Proof that the most beloved guest can sate,     that the most exquisite presence can finally pall.It’s the heaven dilemma; humans can get bored     with anything consistent—beauty, love.Such weather was a goddess to be adored;     what I wanted to do was give the girl a shove.But what an exit. An entire day     of roaring wind and rain and flying leaves.Melodramatic, tantrum, the best way     to turn the page for anyone who believesHeathcliff teaches us to love Darcy. No one’s fault.Salt’s not a meal, but every meal needs salt.