November 3 Poem

November comes

with her cloak of yellow leaves

spread deep beneath

the cottonwood trees.

How can you walk through

Autumn days without

yellow and red leaves

swirling and spiraling

down around you,

piling up in corners,

crunching underfoot.

Don’t be too hasty with the rake.

I need Autumn’s chill,

her dancing leaves

and spindly branches,

that yellow carpet

beneath my feet

to remind that I’m yet alive.

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