Saturday, March 19, 2022

THE CLEAN CRISP AIR OF AUTUMN

Something is different as I wake this morning.

The air has the freshness of cool satin sheets

As I rise to greet the new day at it's dawning.

My mind starts to race and my heart skips a beat

In anticipation; something has changed.

The air is new and clean and alive;

No sweltering mire of the dog days of August

With laboring breath meant to merely survive.

 

No sweat-stained nightshirt.

No ragweed filled head.

No tossing about through the night in half-sleep.

The breeze falling down from Saskatchewan beckons

A peaceful serenity, silent and deep.

 

The trees know the difference. they've started to blush

Knowing full well their nakedness soon will appear.

The Sun itself seems to be more in a rush

To shorten each day to the end of the year.

But I'll not waste these precious days.

I'll count each one with loving care;

Recording the sights of the changing seasons,

Breathing the clean, crisp Autumn air.

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