Fifteenth of the month

Not a quadruplicate of babies' skulls

November coloured

eyes and mouths rehearsing Christmas carols

e’en as they lay, battered in the gutter

but an egg carton, fog-sodden and forlorn

Although not cold enough

My slightly blurred reflection in the darkness of the double glazing,

the blackness of the frantic trees against the pewter sky,

gloomily presage November.