November is like a Mother

 I held my camera to the passing landscape as I drove yesterday...November's kinship is a meek keenness...

November is like a Mother

Whose house at last is kept

The fruit from the garden garnered

Cobwebs from corners swept

Toys that all summer were scattered

In lovely disarray

While children and flowers chattered

Have all been put away

And now she shakes her apron

Trinket-like moments fall

From pockets where she gathered

Leaf-song, meadow-lark's call

Before she tucks them, gentle

Into Time’s cradle, soft

Where low sky is a mantle

Above the sleeping croft

November is like a mother

Content, she fills the air

With sparkling smiles and kisses

While, from her rocking chair

She views earth’s rooms in order

And neatly put aright

Before she tucks each corner

Beneath a blanket, white

© Janet Martin