November's days are cold and gray,
its main agenda, snow.
The cardinal has disappeared,
replaced by heathen crow.
The wind's a fool with many tales
that may not quite be true.
It whistled all the leaves away
and turned the meadow blue.
The violets I love the most
have fled the forest floor.
The sun is fickle, never quite
as blazing as before.
Wild gees are tumbled through the sky
until they honk in fear.
I wish the season would embrace
a calmer time of year.
Yet, nature has a bolder plan
not known for brevity.
November has the final say
on how the world will be.

Published on November 1st, 2022