November
The real northern autumn
False promises to entice
The reds and flame oranges
The poplars and oaks
Apples once a projected pie
The wind shrills under the door
Kickstarts with a reminder
That the colors
And strong late sunshine
Were loss leaders
The uninitiated
And serendipitous idiots
Lie brown and decaying
Now wet with mud
And constant rain
Still cling niggardly
To what was alive
Months ago
But now hang like tinsel
From last year's Christmas tree
Or family outing
Now rotting under the trees
In the leaves and dead grass
And the forecaster forecasts
November
Doug McKenny is a customs broker
in Derby Line, Vermont