Come November

A wind, sharp and cold Leaves the trees shaven, Of such colors bold Yet, in my mind are graven Come November days Less sunlight remains, Where it stayed and plays Filtering, as it drains Through amber waves Leaving my heart warm, In my memory saves Before the first snowstorm Be it white by morning No more gold and red, Be it winter's warning That autumn is almost dead Come November nights Stiffened by the chill, The dappled sunlights Cling to my soul still.