Fleeting fall, first snow
quiet sleepy gray
November is
autumn’s final fling
A month almost forgotten
when robins and cedar waxwings
last birds of fall
forage leftover berries
before winter’s famine
Leathery leaves drift
on windless days
to carpet the earth
a portent of white drifts to come
November means feasting
contentment
grace and comfort
giving thanks
for food, family, friends
A time of remembrance
for war’s end
and hope for peace
November is a state of mind
--Carole Coates
November 2021
Your words are a description of the last day of November here in Western Montana…gloomy skies, trees bare of leaves due to a gusty wind that blew through the valley last week and antlered whitetail buck deer chasing does through the meadow below our house. I cheer for the does!
Living on the Diagonal 
Wonderful poem!
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Thank you!
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Your words are a description of the last day of November here in Western Montana…gloomy skies, trees bare of leaves due to a gusty wind that blew through the valley last week and antlered whitetail buck deer chasing does through the meadow below our house. I cheer for the does!
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Interesting. I’m with you and the does.
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