Sweet November,
meandering through
your muted hues,
and pausing to ponder
among leaves of chartreuse,
I hiked up your hilltops,
where the vines gleamed like gold,
and among glittering gems,
I secretly strolled.
Or so I thought!
A lazy, grazing flock of sheep,
stood, gazing, guessing,
who'd made a peep!
Catching a glimpse of eagle's eye,
Thought I'd bid them all goodbye!
Downhill I tread
on slopes slippery and steep,
and arrived at a church,
nestled deep,
among fruit bearing trees.
A few steps away,
surrounded by green,
St. Matthew's is part
of a pastoral scene.
And, in the neighbouring village,
at the top of the road,
yet a third church stands,
next to an olive grove.
From there,
I spy my space,
high in the sky,
and spot others of stone,
stucco and dye,
below.
Ah, November,
with your tableau
of gold and bordeaux,
December is upon us,
and tomorrow
you shall go,
quietly leaving
your treasures
in my heart, aglow.
Thanks for visiting!
xo
~Poppy~
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