November is here
Father Frost comes near
I like November.
I like the long evenings
filled with books, tea and good conversations.
I like the cold mornings
the mist and the promises.
I like the last leaves falling
the first snow and the woolen socks.
I like Swedish stuff,
from amazing design to Pippi Longstock.
I like the wind
whispering about adventures and unknown places.
I like watching old movies,
and eating speculaas.
I like the smell of bonfires,
hot chocolate, apples and oranges.
I like the scarfs and the tights and warm woolen mittens.
And I know it hasn't to do anything with November
But I really like Julie Andrews, red shoes and deers.
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring."
- Clyde Watson
"How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.
At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow."
- Elsie N. Brady, Leaves