Kirsten Kinnell
The First of November
The first of November
sweeps in a pale snow
on its sluicing winds—
it portends.
The first of November
a gloom of low clouds
arrives and settles in—
it portends.
The first of November
the Saints see us gathered,
our lamps are lit, but dim—
it portends.
The first of November
the year’s night begins.
Death’s here, towards us he bends—
he attends.
Kirsten Kinnell
lives in Columbus, Ohio, and is currently completing a master’s degree in counseling. Her work has previously appeared in
Atlanta Review, Quarterly West, Presence, and elsewhere. You can find her rarely tweeting @KirstenKinnell.