November’s breath is soft and cool,
A whispered promise from the fall,
The leaves, they dance to autumn’s rule,
As twilight’s shadows gently call.

The days grow short, the nights extend,
A hush descends upon the earth,
In nature’s slumber, dreams suspend,
Awaiting winter’s quiet birth.

The sky, a canvas painted grey,
Yet beauty lies in somber hue,
Each fleeting moment, night and day,
A tender grace in every view.

November’s heart beats soft and slow,
A lullaby to seasons past,
In every breeze, a gentle flow,
A timeless calm that seems to last.