Skitters

The sun is bright, yet, gentle,

Its light skitters across leaves on the ground,

Though many remain in the trees,

Still lots of falling left in this Fall,

The warmth of a fire lands on my hand,

The warmth of the sun rests on my cheek,

I stare into the leaves, then into the fire,

I even welcome some smoke,

Let it envelope me until it gets too strong,

The air temperature is so perfect, comfort permeates my body,

My mind relaxes, my heart feeds on the goodness,

I am held in a moment of calm that transcends time and place,

Like I am floating, free of attachments,

Like there is no gravity of life weighing me down,

Where joy is just being alive.