November poems in May O.o

Well, it's a beautiful May day; warm, sunny. Things are starting to bloom. I have been digging in the garden, planting flowers. I used sun glasses and sunscreen. So, what am I inspired to write about?
This:

November Inside and Out

Because the skies are steely-cold and bare
I hunch my shoulders, hug myself, and sigh.
November's underside can bring despair
When muted greys form land and lake and sky.
The geese forsake this damp and dreary place
They're harbingers of darker times ahead.
In honking tatters, flapping out through space
As wistfully, I watch and lose my thread
Of thought. I drag my eyes back to the page
Where half-formed words and longings hide from me,
Not yet mature, but in a dormant stage
My mind, my words reflecting all I see.
This is the season to prepare the ground
So later buried treasures may be found

(Now with this one, I'm not quite happy with the phrase 'not yet mature' because if I am comparing my thoughts to things in November that doesn't fit. In November the natural world is decaying and dying, coming to the end of it's cycle rather than immature. So...that's something to think about. I'm pretty happy with the rest of it though, I even have a line break in the middle of the part about losing the thread of my thought.)

And here's another:

Untitled

Observe-
How lovely the leaves
As they die
Brilliant reds and yellows
Nature takes a lavish curtain call
But lest we forget,
The show is not for us,
Though by grace
We are allowed to watch
Anyway

Yup, that's a pretty good example of my logical thought process
(or lack thereof).

BP Traveling Show

So, it’s been so long since I wrote anything here that I forgot my password. As I jumped through the hoops to enable a new password (I have obviously done something wrong, as it has taken 47 minutes at this point) I have gone from impatience to anger to frustration to irony. Oh well.
Now, I don’t generally do political/current event commentary poems, but with the recent British Petroleum oil spill I make an exception. I have been through a string of emotions from surprise to impatience to anger to disbelief to anger to more disbelief. But I’ll spare you the ranting, and leave this little comparison that recently popped to mind.

BP Traveling Show

Do a little dance
Some fancy foot work
Tip your hat
Twirl around
Watch closely everyone…
Nothing up my sleeve –
Now you see it,
Now you don’t
And now for the old soft shoe,
As the band plays on…
Exit, stage right.