(sonnet # CCLXXVII)
November steps in, trees half-deckt still by
The Autumn's rich attire, while colours sway
The bitter chill of Winter's footstep, grey
But fringing life now: skeletons 'gainst sky
So starkly framed, offset by brethren nigh
With gaily dancing trim yet clinging t'llay
That grimmer aspect; gold fills life by day
To brighten, while maroons and crimsons lie
Quite scatter'd 'round, with greens, mauves, or'nges, blue
And sunny heavens, yea. That's how she comes.
The harvest tidies up and closes through
Her passage, fields reapt as life then succumbs
To bur'al. That's 'bout how she goes. Her dew
Is frosty, and His tread at length benumbs.
01Nov11