There are so many crisp, perfect, and wistful poems about November. It’s hard to choose just one, isn’t it? But here’s a short one I return to every year. (And it’s in the public domain, yay!)
November Night
by Adelaide Crapsey
Listen …
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
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