November

The autumn sun is mellow Grey rain clouds have long passed by, I whiff primroses yellow As they heave a perfumed sigh; Blue skies have looked not deeper Bird-song now honey sweet, Rich harvest for the reaper As he eyes his field of wheat; Gleeful look the butterflies Joyous the bees by their side, Their blithe all sorrow defies Secrets they will not confide; Can see deep woods in the lake In its pristine waters calm, The breeze carries a tremor Its caress a lulling balm; Black grapes now ready for wine The apples do fuller look, Which dusky hues will entwine With a mist over the brook; Summer’s and winter’s embrace For autumn lays down a bridge, Time with ethereal grace Pauses along with the midge; Hashanah will come in soon And Halloween will hold sway, Till harvests promise a boon With Yuletide not far away; Fog will camouflage the shame Of willows disrobing slow, Is it some surreal game? Perhaps, I will never know! Old memories prong the psych Their scraping like withered leaves, They seek of the winds a hike Like pigeons under the eaves. ***********