November

November often marks a month
Of unloved days ‘ti true.
Bt look around and listen well
For sounds will call to you.
The tapping of a woodpecker;
The lisping of a wren
The chatting of a nutting squirrel;
The shouts of lumbermen.
Wan sunlight that sometimes glitters
Like silver where it’s dark.
Rain crooning soothing lullabies
On rocks within the park.
The slow buzz of the common fly
Before its winter sleep.
The smoldering flame of fallen leaves
That marks were each day weeps.
A yes! November may be dull
To some, but not to me
For it is full of vibrant sounds
And sights to hear and see.

– Circa 1950

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