Morning comes across a clear sky
Its air breathing cool through the trees
The trees submitting to the change in season
Their leaves turning to auburns and goldens as a mark of
their transition
This air cold on my skin and cold on the town’s
The gathered wood warms home and hearth
The air carries its scent and enfolds us all
My spirit revels in such a perfect morning
Like so many of the autumns in years past
The same morning that has taken me to school
The same that has baked warm sweets by my mother’s hand
The same that walked by my side as I journeyed abroad so far
from home
This morning is of my heart and soul
A moment in a fleeting season that I can only reach for
Never to truly grasp before it is gone
A phantom of life’s eternal transition from rest to rebirth
Forever drawn into its gaze I can’t stay long enough before
the cold sends me away
Back to my own hearth
To send the smoke signal to another’s heart.