All the trees are almost barren,
Now I can see farther across the hills.
Heavy knit sweaters folks are wearing,
Frost each morning sits on my windowsills.
Gathering wood for my old iron stove,
Hanging bird feeders in a nearby grove.
Filling my cup with hot spiced tea,
I’ll call on an old friend to share it with me.
Author: Eileen Clark ~ November 2018
Painting ~ Sycamores on Clear Creek, Oil on Canvas
John Elwood Bundy 1853 ~ 1913,