by Ann B. Day
November is a time for
frolicking,
planning
and remembering.
November is stern
and prickly;
she doesn’t put on
a colorful display
or send sweet scents
into the air.
She has a beauty
we must look for
in the bronze fields
where finches feed
on thistle seed
and silver-silk of milk-pod weed,
where nightly frosts crown
goldenrod and river weed.
Photograph by Jesseca P. Timmons
Smoky Quartz 