Here’s a poem about the Fall that I thought you might enjoy:
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.
My trinket in November has become this knitted necklace made of grey mohair and Murano glass beads (from my trip to Italy a few years ago).
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