November...

November, when the earth slips into the quiet slumber of winter...

November, the month of my favourite holiday...

November, the month of my first child's birth...

"November" by Mary Oliver

The snow

began slowly,

a soft and easy

sprinkling

of flakes, and then clouds of flakes

in the baskets of the wind

and the branches

of the trees-

oh, so pretty.

We walked

through the growing stillness,

as the flakes

prickled the path,

then covered it,

then deepened

as in curds and drifts,

as the wind grew stronger,

shaping its work

less delicately,

taking greater steps

over the hills

and through the trees

until, finally,

we were cold,

and far from home.

We turned

and followed our long shadows back

to the house,

stamped our feet,

went inside, and shut the door.

Through the window

we could see

how far away it was to the gates of April.

Let the fire now

put on its red hat

and sing to us.