Song of November 28th

in all the stillness of mid-morning a well-played song brown leaves still hang on branches of trees and I figure all that is going to fall has fallen but the tree still hangs onto life I sit at my laptop a blank page faces me on the screen and as it flickers all it asks from me is a poem that’s all a poem but it must be true to itself and as I run through my mind I see a litany of faces of the all the loves I've known and in a moment of silence I must admit that I still love them all but the room is still heat rises from a vent to ease the chill I feel in my bones I know winter is near I look out the window and see a sparrow hop across the lawn and something inside says I’ve seen it before