"NOVEMBER"

November comes

And November goes,

With the last red berries

And the first white snows.

With night coming early,

And dawn coming late,

And ice in the bucket

And frost by the gate.

The fires burn

And the kettles sing,

And earth sinks to rest

Until next spring.

A poem by Elizabeth Coatsworth

Linking to

Mosaic Monday @ Little Red House

Masterpiece Monday @ Boogieboard Cottage

Tabletop Tuesday @ A Stroll Thru Life

Fall Into Fall Party @ DIY by Design

Wow Us Wednesday @ Savvy Southern Style