November

The weather changes, and the days grow short,
We shiver in our courses, tending fires,
And some of us are even switching tires.
According to the latest sad report,
Just outside town Jack Frost is holding court
With snowflake princesses, all of them liars:
The Summer wheezed and died, now Fall expires
With sighs so immature they make us snort.

When Winter really comes, we'll start to sneeze
As if we've taken in a bag of snuff,
Or allergies are kicking up. We're tough,
But we remember Summer's poor, frail wheeze,
And Fall whipped through here, just a one-month tease.
The days are short now. Nights aren't long enough.