I love a good, quiet, fall morning.

When the air is crisp but heavy coats not yet necessary. When the morning light slants through the changing leaves, painting the world in a mix of autumn colors.

The wind whistles, the leaves rustle. It is quiet and still, but not quiet at all.

The squirrels are panicking, the birds are chirping. The world is so very much alive while calming down for the quiet death of winter.

I love a good, quiet, fall morning.

When it feels like the world could just be still forever. A smooth pond cherishing the tremor of a falling leaf.

The rich morning sun keeping the darkness at bay.

The coldness approaching but a touch of warmth still in the air.

That moment of indecision, a penny in the air, waiting with baited breath for the season to turn.
I love a good, quiet, fall morning.


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