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NOVEMBER COMES
November comes And November goes, With the last red berries And the first white snows.With night coming early, And dawn coming late, And ice in the bucket And frost by the gate.The fires burn And the kettles sing, And earth sinks to restUntil next spring.~Clyde Watson
Peggy,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by; I think you are waaaaay ahead of me in the technical stuff! I was not familiar with this poem, but I love it!
Janet
PS, I see we read the same blogs