October is crowned with glory.
She is touched with Heaven’s glow.
The seasons declare her rise to glory
Her majestic laurel-leafed crown in
magnificent display, with jeweled leaves adorned.
O northern wind, command her before thee to bow, and
cast forth her golden crown.
Lay her upon forest floors of crushed velvet brown.
Her reign deposed she now lies in November’s leafless repose
for Brian Strand's contest
1st place win
Note: some how my poem and comments were