I’ve always found November a dull month. The clocks have just gone back, heralding the onset of long, dark evenings, the weather usually starts to turn from autumnal to wintery, and everything seems to be on hold until December arrives, bringing the promise of Christmas and good times with family. Unlike the USA, who have Thanksgiving Day, for us it’s a kind of nothing month. I don’t want to sound down, as I’m not, but that’s the way I think of it. I wondered if I was alone in that so I did some research, particularly into poems about November, to see what others thought of this month.
I found a short poem which summed it up perfectly for me. Before I share it with you, take a look at this from Google:
I must admit I hadn’t realised that death was a criterion by which poets were judged! The Robin Williams movie has a lot to answer for!
The poem I’ve chosen to share is by Thomas Hood, and is simply called November:
Now that I’ve cheered you up I bid you a lovely Sunday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!