Three Sounds of November

The whistles and squelchings of starlings in a field or in the bare trees that stand here and there in empty parking lots.

The papery rustle of small rounded leaves that fall astonished by the first frost from a backyard tree which I still can’t identify.

The dry cracking of embers in the fireplace, like the sound of an old man’s knuckles, which I listen to in the dark while the children sleep.

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