November

"O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing."

– Percy Bysshe Shelley

Now halfway through the month, it finally looks and feels like November. The trees are half bare, with patches of red and orange and yellow leaves clinging desperately to branches despite the recent winds. There's more wind and rain coming; by this time next week the trees will be naked and cold.

© 2016 by A. Roy Hilbinger