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Fall Morning
April 2, 2015
Over the steep ridge,
The sun arrives.
A warm pat of butter
Melting over of oatmeal.
The hot glow was welcome
On the back of my neck
As there I rested,
Under my favorite maple,
Reading in solitude.
Beautiful leaves
Around me falling softly.
Then I know it is truly fall,
Once again.
© Anna W., Athens, PA
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I wrote this poem as part of a series of "Morning" poems about the seasons. Not my best work, but I have come back and reedited multiple times over the past couple months. I hope you like it! I will post the others also.