November Poem by Amar Agarwala

The autumn sun is mellow
Grey rain clouds have long passed by,
I whiff primroses yellow
As they heave a perfumed sigh;

Blue skies have looked not deeper
Bird-song now honey sweet,
Rich harvest for the reaper
As he eyes his field of wheat;

Gleeful look the butterflies
Joyous the bees by their side,
Their blithe all sorrow defies
Secrets they will not confide;

Can see deep woods in the lake
In its pristine waters calm,
The breeze carries a tremor
Its caress a lulling balm;

Black grapes now ready for wine
The apples do fuller look,
Which dusky hues will entwine
With a mist over the brook;

Summer's and winter's embrace
For autumn lays down a bridge,
Time with ethereal grace
Pauses along with the midge;

Hashanah will come in soon
And Halloween will hold sway,
Till harvests promise a boon
With Yuletide not far away;

Fog will camouflage the shame
Of willows disrobing slow,
Is it some surreal game?
Perhaps, I will never know!

Old memories prong the psych
Their scraping like withered leaves,
They seek of the winds a hike
Like pigeons under the eaves.
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