November is golden for a little while before she turns to steely gray.
A warm day is a special gift she gives before she turns to blowing her chilling winds.
But she ushers in a season of thankfulness,
that warm season of remembering and reflection.
Can you see the wisdom in those pilgrims of long ago,
--who, more than we will ever know or comprehend--
knew about the blessings of plenty,
following the seasons of very little.
As I turn the calendar page over to the eleventh page,
I need to count my many blessings, one by one.