November 31st

I went to bed in autumn…

The rime was on the grass,

And sun on river’s bottom;

How beautiful it was!

The fog was lying low

Beneath the morning chill

And pigeons in a row

On wires standing still.

Bewitchingly amazing…

And I could only dream

That autumn’s dying blazing

Would change to summer beam.

But morning slammed my door

With snow of perfect cinder.

My dream was on the floor…

…And I woke up in winter.

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