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.
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