It's November

A poem about the feeling of November

IT'S NOVEMBER

I awake
To rustling leaves
Upon the mulberry tree
Outside my window,
Gentle swaying movements
In the sunlight
On this quiet afternoon.
And it's November.

Somehow it's time
For appointments I made
In the heated days of summer
To now be recognized and kept.

Somehow the months have passed.
The pages of my calendar have turned.
The sun has moved
To a different part of the sky
And it's November.