November stretches, rubs his eyes
Spits soggy plumes and frosty sighs
His bite numbs feet and face and ears
Our breath takes flight, then disappears.
A feeble sun stoops low to drink
From rushing rivers, steals a chink
Of blushing maples, ginger breeze
Ignites a fire to tips of trees.
Soft sky strums autumnal air
Flings a fleece of golden glare
Clings to trees, crowns mountain pass
Turns them into amber glass.
Coppered leaves come boating down
Glide gently into molten mounds
Branches dip, flutter damp and drew
December soon hoves into view.
