It Must Be November...

When earth is swept of leaf-song

And girth of gardens stripped

When orchard limbs are barren

Where fruit of flowers dripped

When June is an illusion

In Brigadoon of thought

Then it must be November

Darling, love me, love me not

When we, estranged spectators

To sun-swept fields of grass

Must learn to learn new colors

In things that come to pass

When we ally with dreamers

...reply to firesides

Then it must be November

Darling, love me with your eyes

When gilt of gray and sable

Strums skylines, bare and bleak

When the air is stiff with struggle

But will of day is weak

When we grapple with wishes

Adjusting to good-bye

Then it must be November

Darling, love me like July

© Janet Martin

I have to confess

I'm struggling a little

to adapt to the color-change...