End of November

Portland signage to be puzzled over.

Pattern

Some believe the slumber

Of trees is in December

When timber's naked under sky

And squirrel keeps his chamber.

.

But I believe their fibres

Awake to life and labour

When turbulence comes roaring up

The land in loud October,

.

And plunders, strips, and sunders

And sends the leaves to wander

And undisguises prickly shapes

Beneath the golden splendor.

.

Then form returns. In warmer,

seductive days, disarming

Its firmer will, the wood gew soft

And put forth dreams to murmur.

.

Into earnest winter

With spirit alert it enters;

The hunter wind and the hound frost

Have quelled the green enchanter.

~C.S. Lewis