Crisp

Beyond the rounded

sleep, beyond the cozy

cocoon of hearth and home, in the

mystery of the perfect dark, a dance of

vapor kissed by cold seals the

promise of a frosted morning.

Leaving the warmth is hardest at

first, from tangled

sheets to hot shower and a

steaming mug of

tea, out the door into a

fresh day, plumed

breath in cold

light slanting across

glass dusted grass, silver

gilded fallen leaf. Stopped short in

chill stillness, crystalized

ground, bare trees and whispers of

winter to come. An autumnal

shiver and smile, spirit

writ in delicate ice and a

nipped desire to

stay.