Melancholy, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

This November nip, facing winter’s dip
My mood the brown leaf floating to the ground
No sound of blue jays or cricket chirps

My thermostat set at 72, outside the frost comes due
The calendar and clock are frozen too
The sky is ice and not a nice hue of blue

Bare branches smell of dampness, not quite ready to snow
The palm tree across the street doesn’t seem to know
My bones still ridged when outside so frigid

My mood is the fallen acorn that’s rotted, no seed
The squirrel in it’s den has plenty, no need
To worry like me

No smile, no frown, and I still feel down
The cold is the petal on an icicle rose
And as the wind blows outside my window

My mood is in a vacuum, vertigo, it wont let go
Weightless lukewarm thoughts meander aimlessly
As the vertical translucent jousts drip dangling

My brittle corpse a thousand blankets could not warm
Though my body temperature is 98.6 , I cannot fix
A fireplace to raise my cheer, no kindling near

Melancholy, I won’t be jolly, until the spring is here.