No, this poem isn't mine but I think of it every year around this time. I like the cadence and the words, but even more, I like the truth and the "feel" that is captured in these lines. I found it years ago while living in Botswana, desperately longing for November woods and the autumn season. These words helped me to remember and to remind me that one day I would return to them again.
How lovely are the silent woods in gray November days,
When the leaves fall red and gold about the quiet ways.
From massive beech, majestic oak and birches white and slim,
Like the pillared aisles of a cathedral vast and dim.
Drifting mist like smoking incense hangs upon the air....
Along the paths where birds once sang the trees stand stripped and bare.
Making Gothic arches with their branches interlaced
And window-framing vistas richly wrought and finely traced.
It is good to be in such a place on such a day.
Problems vanish from the mind and sorrows steal away.
In the woods of gray November silent and austere
Nature gives her benediction to the passing year.