Morning Letter

Today is November
and the weather seems somewhat

relieved.
I feed the birds in the garden

starlings land at will.
In autumn the air is already colder

and the light falls as if dabbed
by a masterful painter.

Look at our humble roses
how they persevere

their beauty undeterred by the seasons.
I know there is a lesson here

beyond fences, bricks and eaves
before the fear of hunger —

I write down I wish
the future to arrive

like the return of a long-lost relative
and that we can welcome her

unafraid
with open arms.