Some November minimalist attempts:
Late autumn:
Even the scavengers
Have gone.
november:
Hoary ghost
Rides the north wind.
Barren:
Nothing to stop
The tumbleweeds journey
Broom straw:
Sand swept
In semi-circles
Late autumn:
tree skeletons
frame the skyline.
my dog
buried under
heaped monuments
defiant mums
gold dust shines
through silver frost
fire leaf:
wind shivers
a candle’s flame
morning cathedral:
even the crows
are silent.
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