Autumn Mornings

I love the crisp air on my face.
The remnant smell of fireplace.
The way the sun peeks out in flame.
As the promise of dawn whispers my name.
Out of bed before first light.
Friendly darkness gently ending night.
The way the glorious leaves, ever few,
Crinkle and crunch beneath my shoe.
Scarves and jackets, mittens and coats.
On autumn mornings, my spirit floats.