Eve of November

It is the eve of November fall harvests gathered and stored away All Hallows eve and the gray black wisps of clouds stretch across a brilliant white setting sun. EEiry images trace faint spewed tracks in the sky and hovering in ominous flight below black shadow crows cry out and caw aloud. Burly squirrels dig furiously burying acorns beneath dried leaves then wave their tails in bantered chit chat. October bows its head swooping low in a false curtsy welcoming the winter cold.