Than these November skies
Is no sky lovelier. The clouds are deep;
Into their grey the subtle spies
Of colour creep,
Changing that high austerity to delight,
Till ev’n the leaden interfolds are bright.
And, where the cloud breaks, faint far azure peers
Ere a thin flushing cloud again
Shuts up that loveliness, or shares.
The huge great clouds move slowly, gently, as
Reluctant the quick sun should shine in vain,
Holding in bright caprice their rain.
And when of colours none,
Not rose, nor amber, nor the scarce late green,
Is truly seen, —
In all the myriad grey,
In silver height and dusky deep, remain
The loveliest,
Faint purple flushes of the unvanquished sun.
~John Freeman “November Skies”

November is usually a barren landscape peasant-bare and farmer-plain. Even so, this austere month is sometimes offset by a royal light show in the skies with golden and purple hues painted by the rising and setting sun.

The sky has subtlety and nuance, not unlike what we see in a beloved and aging face. Indeed, a remembered beauty becomes liminal beyond the myriad gray. The horizon’s folds, lines and wrinkles glow with lambent light and depth.

Despite these darkening days, our sun is never vanquished. May we also be illuminated like these incredible skies, our grayness enrobed in royal golds and purples.