Most of my life I have been trying to wrap myself around understanding poetry. My first book was a second edition "A Child's Garden of Verses" by Robert Louis Stevenson. Prior to my ownership both my mother and her father had scribbled with crayon and wore the pages thin.
Today thanks to the magic of podcasts I heard a simple wonderful poem entitled "November" by Thomas Hood, written in 1844
No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease.
No comfortable feel in any member
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bee.
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds!
November!
Peace Always
Sharon
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