A Cold November.

November has never been so cold; Each breath I take hangs heavy in the air. The sun shines a little less And grey clouds loom menacingly above. Leaves fall like rocks to the ground And the trees cry in agony with the wind. The earth spins slowly into the dark season; I can feel its every rotation beneath my feet. Birds line branches in silence, For they have nothing to sing for. The fauna of the wood lie down to weep And the Earth falls into grieving. Bright bird of divine creation You chose to fly away too soon. Harkening this season of dark regret; The world can never be the same again. We caged you too tightly little bird So fly, fly away softly into the dark. Light the path for us all, bright bird To see you when Spring comes round again.