Early November
By
John I. Blair
Morning light gleams;
Cool air fills my lungs;
From the seed-heavy holly
A clever mockingbird flaps out,
Singing up the sunbeams
Like Orpheus in feathers.
Come crisp days I know
The jolly waxwing teams
Will rally here to feed,
Chivying as ever
Melancholy
In front of them.
©2004 John I. Blair
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