My Tree In November

A Day In Autumn

It will not always be like this,

The air windless, 

A few last leaves 

Adding their decoration to the trees’ shoulders, 

braiding the cuffs of the boughs with gold; 

A bird preening in the lawn’s mirror. 

Having looked up from the day’s chores, 

pause a minute, and

Let the mind take its photograph

Of the bright scene, 

- Something to wear against the heart in the long cold.

Ronald Stuart Thomas