Part one thing, part another,
such is, so often, our November,
the eleventh month
wearing the number of transition.
Eleven, so in-between, so hanging there, so almost,
a number used in humor,
as the last eleventy-three leaves fall,
a number tempting us to reach, tap, click
through to the next.
October's leftovers, December's hors d'oeuvres,
November seldom an entree of its own.
Yet where is message without courier,
muscle to bone without tendon,
journey without passageway,
and love without connection?
How do Hand and Eye coordinate
in the Body
without the Nerve?
Lord, your seasons of life link by transition--
prepare us, ease us, pace us, connect us,
lest we ever despise the place of a Go-Between,
the very power of life: Jesus.
