Image courtesy of Scott Wylie from Wikimedia
November
When fields are ploughed as daylight lasts,And tall trees point their leafless masts.
When birds sit cold with no songs to sing,
With beak and head tucked under wing.
When dying leaves fall soft through rain,
And the days breath silent fog again,
When snug in bed the cold creeps in,
To freeze the toes and chill the chin.
When lit by bonfires glowing embers,
Fireworks bring starlight in November;
Dewdrops of ice shall far and wide,
Bejewel the slumbering countryside
Sally Grey
Poetry by SallyGrey
Read 91 times
Written on 2025-11-22 at 15:22
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