You can love them the way you fall in love with October, seeing the whole landscape set afire, saying to yourself it has been this way all along, the way beauty so often is, covered within. With Me Come with me into November though the flags of autumn plunge in slanting rain. A rotting pumpkin rose instead of the moon one week in October. We celebrated the Dead Festivals and dressed in spirit rags. Now darkness floods the lowlands of morning and pours over the ledge of dusk.
Skeletons fall from the oaks and elms, buried under a fading banner of leaves.
Though deer slip from the thicket searching a scant green memory of summer, some flower of warmth after the bitter frost, this is the time of their mating. Light the fireplace. Pour red wine. Don't stand at the window watching for the snow.