Write in your heart that each day is the best day of the year.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Priceless days of November
When trees wear golden hair
We see gold on the water
We breathe gold in the air.
Gone is the green of summer,
The browns of winter yet rare;
Springing from pathway and arbor
Gold is everywhere.
Who needs gold that can't be spent?
For such the fool doesn't care;
Yet this gold is gold that suits my soul
I'll treasure up my share.