November by the Sea

Now in November nearer comes the sun

down the abandoned heaven.

As the dark closes round him, he draws nearer

as if for our company.

At the base of the lower brain

the sun in me declines to his winter solstice

and darts a few gold rays

back to the old year's sun across the sea.

A few gold rays thickening down to red

as the sun of my soul is setting

setting fierce and undaunted, wintry

but setting, setting behind the sounding sea

between my ribs.

The wide sea wins, and the dark

winter, and the great day-sun, and the sun in my soul

sinks, sinks to setting and the winter solstice

downward, they race in decline

my sun, and the great gold sun.