Sonnet for Kalends of November

Open water stands where there should be ice
so late in the year. Sparrows still squabble
over seeds abandoned by ants and mice;
surviving turkeys now strut and gobble,
courtiers in mourning under pillared oaks.
With stately gait, they tread hours of light.
Chestnut branches ben under croaking rooks,
who in gothic garb find death a delight.
Chill wind slashes despite sunny smiles,
as sunset chalks landscapes with pink and peach.
Then evening arrives, with far-flung jewels.
Governess Night has some lessons to teach,
how to make bright eyes glitter in the dark,
and how to be playful in time of work.

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