There is a rose

There is a rose which shivers    
this November afternoon    
A faint mist about    
the bird feeder dripping empty    
no birds sing or feed as      
I sit and write and glean,     
seek inspiration; even the birds      
have shunned this November day.      
August songs a memory, a compensation ,  
this cold bleak afternoon at three.    
At five it will be dark.    
Berries, red cheer the day .  
 Advent now, soon Christmas tide      
 relief from quarrels.    
Faith returns until January      
 with it fate:  . . . . . . . .  spring returns .    
Nature's promises believed.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published | Edited 7th Dec 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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