Sunday, November 11, 2012


this is the treacherous month when autumn days
with summer's voice come bearing summer's gifts.
beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
her head and blooms again. the soft, warm haze
makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
and, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
the violet returns.

excerpted from "november" by helen jackson

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