Her name is November

The whirl wind comes up
through the ground covered with leaves
uplifting the dead souls of the righteousness
flying high into the air all around
the trees to bear witness to her Grace.

I sat there by the creek
with an unimaginable audience
of those who have come to past
in the most earthly fashion of dead
branches, silt and moss.
All the people of her forest
smiled in her direction
as she headed our way.
To see and believe why after
millions of years of dead things
are so happy to be alive in her fading light?

I asked the smiling leaves next to me
and they had no concept of death and
looked at me as if I was crazy.

They all admired her beauty,
laughing and smiling like old friends
even when everything around
them are dying or already dead.
Emotions never die really.
They live on through
the season as ghosts dancing
and welcoming their brothers
and sisters to her light
as she continues to walk by.

Then I woke up.