November’s cidered daylight
has brought the world into deep relief.

I can see the neighbor’s fence
plastered with yellowed sweet-potato-vine leaves,

unpicked Concord grapes still plump on the vines.
Every changed leaf begins to glow

in the soft rain that’s started to fall --
apple yellow, old gold, orange, scarlet,
forsythia's surprising bright green --

even the crumpling ferns
standing in the side yard
sound a purple note.

You can't stop the great colors of change.
Right here, even now, the old world
makes way for
the new.

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