First “Retired” Fall

There is a crispness in the morning air.
The sun is playing tag with the still-green leaves,
but every now and then,
one scarlet leaf dares to poke itself out
and gently whisper, "Harbinger of things to come."

My favorite season is ripe upon us, and I miss the excitement
of childhood preparations for the new school year--
new clothes, new notebooks waiting to be filled,
the smell of freshly-oiled wood floors and generations of chalk dust
somehow suspended in high-ceilinged classrooms.

I miss the sweetly acrid smell of burning leaves,
working with new students--some eager,
others reluctant--challenges to find ways to reach them all.

But I also have grown to love the freedom to write,
to think, to be, and to do what I want early in the morning,
without having to join the traffic hustle and bustle
or to shiver in the cold darkness that autumn and winter bring.