© Sdf Rahbar (Unsplash)
November creeps in unawares, brings a premonition of winter’s chill. I have no choice but to fetch my blanket. It is silky soft and plush-thick against my body. Ohhhh. Wrapping myself in its hug, I burrow into it. To ponder my next move. From here I can scheme my doings a while, perhaps for an hour or so. Even though it looks like I’m merely napping. Not so. This is important work.
Not yesterday I learned to know the love of bare November days. Before the coming of the snow, I shall season myself to weather it. For I both love and detest the cold. When the north wind howls, it quickens my step, my purpose. Reminds me of the death of things. And yet there’s still so much doing to be done. But for now, I shall remain. Snug in my burrow. Cocooned.
© N Nazir 2025
*Written for dVerse Prosery where Kim inspires us with a line from Robert Frost’s My November Guest to include in our write which shouldn’t be longer than 144 words (mine is on the nose). The line is “Not yesterday I learned to know / The love of bare November days / Before the coming of the snow”.
Sunra Rainz 