Come autumn you’ll see them,
the children of November,
rustling down streets,
hopping skipping
leaves---
pencil yellow, satchel brown,
apple red, drifting with the wind,
as eager as students let out of school.
Listen to their voices whisper
of winter just around the corner..
embrace them before they fade,
engulfed by the world’s shadows.
Welcome them, too soon gone—
the children of November.