“The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
John Clare, ‘The Shepherd’s Calendar: November’.
And, if the sun looks through, ’tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place…”
Goodbye November – were it not for photos I might forget your better moments when it did not rain and lockdown2 meant the end of even the smallest crumbs of social pleasures. Still I’ve loved your misty days and especially this evening walk with my daughter when the sunset brought some colour to your pale cheeks.
For the Photo a Day Challenge @ CitySonnets: Goodbye November
PoetryPix 
Beautiful.
such a precious moment 🙂
Wonderful farewell, my dear Laura.
have been saving the best for the goodbye 😉
👌😘🤗
Lovely poem and accompanying photo.
so typical here in November
Clare so steeped in the nature that his observations never tire and yet what a sad and tormented man
We were blessed with the light on that particular walk, and alarmed pheasants as I recall!
pheasants with their feathers almost the colour of this sunset and a muddy dog to boot
We didn’t boot the dog though…
He laughed when my hiking group got lost in the mist, and missed the orchids we were heading for. Today it was his mountaineers who were lost in the mist. So disorienting when even the smallest landmarks are hidden.
. Everything looks so different then! (Orchids in the mist – ahh sounds like a poem)