November Nights

I lie in the dark
and count the crows
on the fawn-coloured field
and picture a
dark stand of spruce with a surprise of yellow
and a Tom Thomson red maple mirrored in a lake,
and wish we were back there again.

Green hill bordered by geranium maples,
fat roan cow with big nursing calf,
spiral of wood smoke -
night after night, it’s crazy.

Redleafed ivy cascades
over a page wire fence.
Evergreens thrive in a handful of soil
in the crevice of a rock face.
Log cabin peeps out from the pines.
We two inside.
Can you feel me?