It Is November.

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November, my favorite month of the whole year. Would it be too much if I said it was the definition of beauty? It is the deepest that autumn will get, the colors will be the boldest they can before they die and the air will be so crisp and fresh before it turns brutally cold and harsh. It is a time for wonder and expression.


The stripped and

shapely

Maple grieves

The ghosts of her

Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,

As hard as stone.

The year is old,

The birds are flown.

And yet the world,

in its distress,

Displays a certain

Loveliness—

-John Updike


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