November smells of turkey, grapes and pumpkin pie.
And leaf-smoking curling gently into the sky.
Some animals have burrowed into the earth
To sleep until the spring.
Is a cricket sharing your house for the winter?
Can you hear him sing?
Nature’s garden is resting.
The trees are stark and bare.
Now you can see the lovely nests
You didn’t know were there.
By Richard Scarry