With the sun just risen over the horizon,
And the sky tinted a faint blue-grey:
This is the best time to be awake.
With the air just cool, but not yet turned
And the birds,
Who haven’t yet fled,
This is the best time
Their leaves just turned to red and yellow and orange
Stand, arching over the roads
A breeze blows.
Leaves fall — but not all of them. Not yet.
This is just — now
And it is good.