It's November

 It’s November

The North Wind blows a flurry of golden leaves and white flakes of snow.

Clear-glass ice forms on the pond,

A lone deer munches our pumpkin offered to him  in the yard.

The Sun’s lowering arc retreats ever South to warm the migrant birds already there.

“Fall” is an apt name, for it is what leaves, temperatures, and the Sun’s arc all do.

Meantime the world turns inward.

Animals hibernate in cozy holes, and trees fall asleep as well.

They are telling us to do likewise: brace for the cold, rest, look to renew what’s important in life.

It’s a time for introspection.