November Is

November is a pilgrim
In austere Sunday best
Going to the meetinghouse
On his day of rest.

November is the storing
Of crops planted in spring,
The frost on crisp, cold mornings,
And gray geese on the wing.

November is elections
Across this freedom land
When voters casting ballots
Show they are in command.

November is a banquet
That welcomes one and all
To tables amply laden
On a holiday in fall.

November is thanksgiving
For blessings from above,
A time when families gather
In fellowships of love.

~ John C. Bonser