A Poem for November


The nights are closing in and winter is fast approaching.

While all is dark and frosty outside, we at Marylebone House love to curl up with a good collection of poems. Here is the perfect poem for those long winter evenings, from master writer, Kenneth Steven…

EARLY NOVEMBER

The morning the storm was gone

The fields thin with water

The branches waving bare,

Their last leaves curling the sky.

And there, in a land left gaunt,

Novembered by days of wild –

Swans, some folded against the wind

Some flying at half-mast above.

The huge slowness of their grace in the air

In the tangled wool of the sky;

Their beauty bigger in the buffeted air,

Their whiteness whiter.

They were ice carvings

Held and frozen high;

Hope of a new year still sleeping

In the land so sore below.

As well as poetry (this is from his most recent, Letting in the Light), Kenneth Steven also writes short stories and novels, including his recent Winter Tales and The Well of the North Wind, both published with Marylebone House.

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