(This piece is a 'minute' - 60 syllables,844484448444, and rhymed AABB, etc..)
October turned the leaves to gold
but now the cold
November wind
rustles their thinned
and meagre remnants on the trees.
No kindly breeze,
this bitter blast
will tear the last
few faded leaves from oak tree's crown,
and cast them down
onto the earth
for spring's rebirth.
Paul Hansford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-a-minute-3/
