Days

My skis and I both know it’s snowing on the mountain. They can feel it on their waxed-up undersides, and I can feel it icy on my skin while the rain surges through the gutter outside our kitchen window. We could make rivers out of their muddy gush. There is pumpkin bread in the oven. My husband got his Italian shoes repaired today, and Elizabeth is getting married in six weeks. There has never been another November day like this one. Tomorrow the sky will be gray folding over layers of gray, used rain clouds and bursts of cold sun. I love that there will be different things about then, that won't be true of now. Happy seventh day of November.