The Dry Ice of November

The Dry Ice of November David J Walker There was once a time dead leaves devoid of pallor Were raked into a a mound of pyre Great heaps dissolved In a funeral fire Releasing the last of What they were Into the Autumn air The scent of dry November from a distance announced everywhere Then The cold Seemed that much Colder And the November sun Much less bolder Returning so much later In the morning East Dissolving sooner in the Evening West The dry ice of November A precursor To the winter