autumn in vermont is highly praised,
but by late november it has me in tears.
lack of light may not really be the cause
of seasonal affective disorder.
it's not just me
perceiving the world through november-colored glasses
it is me perceiving the front page of the new york times
huge photo of people trampling each other to death on a bridge,
and piles of mail asking for help
for the sick and dying and going-extinct humans and animals,
the starving, opressed, tortured and enslaved men and mostly women,
the homeless, the tsunamied, the cheated and lied to, the addicted.
i want to give them all my money
everything i own
all of it take it all if it will help.
but i don't.
i talk myself out of it
and send money to the local food shelf,
the local homeless shelter,
the local environment and avian-recovery center,
the local library and of course
the volunteer firemen.
generosity, yes, sort of, but also in hopes
that they will be there
when i find an injured bird,
or am hungry, homeless, wifiless and bookless
and on fire.