November one brings out the past

With trees pushing tombstones

Daring to put gaiety with somber blooms

Roots plowing the miry ground

Dig up marrowless bones

Upturning loam for lost loves

Nothing but twigs craving for affection

Last week’s inundation

Brought the merciful flood

Sweeping the steles and slabs

Washing off the mud from angels’ faces

Stirring worms from their stupor

Giving life and luster to the gloom

Stirring remembrances just for the nonce

Candles flickering, flowers wilting

Children balling up candle wax

Endless chatter and radios blaring

Pots simmering, candy wraps crinkling

Adobo and dried fish spread on banana leaves

Atop foot high whitened sepulchers

Sharing repasts with the dear departed

The grateful dead cast an approving smile

Reward enough that’s worth your while

You have to believe that this is true

To do next year what you’ve just been through