Ah, Sweet November, she starts out quite chill
A shoulder, that’s colder, but never means ill
Preceding the winter, can still pass unnoticed
Yet eases the shock of the frost like a poultice
There’s always a hint, of a full wintry storm
Her temper is felt like an omen that warns
I see her as friendly, yet prone to be huffy
We handle her mood swings in jackets so puffy
Amazing how quickly her time comes and goes
Was barely the fall before skies fill with snow
Her ways serve a purpose and hers seems to be
The months that we revel in set dormancy
Are coming, and soon, so we better prepare
Unearth hats and mittens, your long underwear
Just the tip of the iceberg, familiar terrain
“Gird your loins” should be November’s refrain!
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