Funny time, November,
With the Autumn clinging on –
Just like the leaves on still-green trees
That won’t accept that Summer’s gone.
But then, it does seem warmer
Than the Autumns of my memory:
Where are all the frosty mornings ?
Bare-stemmed annuals ? Biting draughts ?
Now the low-slung sun still shafts
And won’t set Winter free.
It feels like this might last forever,
And the freeze will never come.
I love this strange, uncertain weather,
When I should be grey and numb.
And yet…I know this fulsome Fall
Is from the carbon in the breeze –
The holly shouldn’t get to grow so tall,
Nor roses bloom so long.
We can’t afford Novembers quite so strong,
They even fool the trees.