Rust colored leaves
Lonesome naked trees
Waving branches, wild dancing fingers
Reaching upward, gray skies, dark clouds above
Early snow, sparse gatherings here and there
Thin streams of streaky smoke
Lazily drifting from red brick chimneys
A sorrowful wind howls cold and lonely
In the distance, two bright red cardinals
Chirping November songs back and forth
Songs of plenty, winter solitude, thanksgiving
Melodies reunited strangers sing
I hope I never forget
How October brought us here
Just to hear the wind
And strangers sing November songs
Poetic Alchemist 
Interestingly (at least to me), I just read that, although Lincoln’s son Robert was supposed to be at the theater with his Father the night of the assassination, he stayed home and missed it. However, he was present at both Garfield’s AND McKinley’s assassinations…
(how many s’s are there in that word, anyway?
anyway… nice photos…!
Great snowy Graveyard photos, now. Thanks!
Those are just really wonderful photos of the birds in the snow, Don! Thanks so much!
Hey Pat, welcome back. Thanks for stopping by and commenting. Will visit you soon
Thanks Dan. Good awakening poem!
Don, I love how this reads like a song. Good poem!!
Wow! Those are beautiful fruit and such photos over there. Guess the same applies to pleasant sensations, too!
Thanks!
Today at the retreat,a poem came to me as I was sitting. I examined it afterward and saw that it refers to unpleasant sensations or emotions or thoughts, acceptance, respect, wonder, and the ever present Presence that’s revealed in their wake:
Ow!
Allow.
Bow.
Wow!
Now.
Thanks Dan. How interesting, and yes peace to both.
Thanks Gautami and yes I know!
Beautiful! Thanks!
Nice photos, too.
A friend of mine saw that game on tv when Herb got the line drive from Gil. May they both be happy!
November is half way through…