Mine is October. Air's chill gnaws my cheeks and ears as the solstice stands still in the fading light. My solitude pricked by squawking geese pilgrimaging to warmer climes. I enjoy my walks, applauding nature's final scene awash in perlée grey skies, a backdrop of gold, crimson red and orange leaves, thus. Spent leaves, twist, careen and reek in nooks and crannies. Naked trees, frail, shivering, sensing November's gnarled fingers and griping chill. Bless these days I say. Bless these days.
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