There is a morning at the end of each August when
I awake to see the golden light that announces autumn.
It vibrates off of the late-summer green of the leaves and
turns the sky a deeper blue.
Its warmth is only visual.
It accompanies a chilly breeze.
I wish I could bottle it up and
bring it out again on a January-gray morning.
It is the moment of clarity before
the world dies into winter.