By Dorthy LaVern McCarthy

November is a lady,
unsure of what to wear.
Forever changing colors,
she strips her closets bare
until dead leaves are hanging
in states of disrepair.
She flings her gowns of crimson,
her shawls of many hues,
across the distant woodlands
in multicolored views
then dances on the meadows
in silver-spangled shoes.


December 7th, 2022




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