It’s feeling a lot later in the year than November across much of the northern U.S. while here in the Valley of the Sun it feels like a month earlier. I’m not complaining – temperatures in the ’80s are just fine with me. Hard to believe we’re a couple of weeks away from Thanksgiving and you-know-what follows after that. All of which makes this poem perfect for a mid-November day:

“How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.”
– Elsie N. Brady, Leaves

Hat tip: egreenway.com