In November, the earth is growing quiet. It is making its bed, a winter bed for flowers and small creatures. In November, some birds move away and some birds stay. The air is full of good-byes and well-wishes. In November, animals sleep more. The air is chilly and they shiver.
In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell. A squash and a pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, can pull everyone from bed in a fog. Food is better in November than any other time of year.
In November, at winter`s gate, the stars are brittle. The sun is sometimes friend. And the world has tucked her children in, with a kiss on their heads, till spring. (In November, by Cynthia Rylant)
Cami Costin
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