November Afternoon Walk

Along the banks of a retreating lake, I crept quietly on that soft clay. Hot and cold, like hurt-entreating lovers The sun and the wind seem at odds today. The blazing leaves have given Their best and given up-- Their vibrant colors are Wined into the air. As I sit and listen, To hear the Earth’s whispers, I feel the trees’ spirits Sink down to their slumbers. The crackle of these, decaying leaves, Will soon be the crunch of snow— And when all is quiet, finally, I know all new beginnings will grow.