Somewhere In November Poem by Jaxsun Castro Horn

The Sunday sun melts away and the path is there
on sidewalk squares liken to rail road tracks but to where?
Each step I muster under fragile and weakened knees
to the guide of my cigarette chimney trailing behind the breeze.
Under the night's sky portends a map, a traveler’s kind;
the bear, a canine, the belt of a fabled hero brings solace to mind.

The engine fuel fumes by my light that falters - my stomach growling
each step now a hustling staccato by sounds of stray dog’s howling.
As cars pass, as neighbors glare at the wanderer going somewhere,
I turn a left with a quickened cadence to that my instinct dares.
And suddenly the cold clasps hold my breath; I cross my arms and quiver...
Stand fast and lay here lest the Sun waken amidst the frigid November.