I sat in the morning light,

in a red plastic Adirondack chair,

my back to the cool winds of fall,

my face toward the sun.

Leaves fall all around me like crackling red-orange potato chips
shaken from maple tree limbs.
They cartwheel across the lawn,
then catch for a moment,
on blades of grass.
Released again,
they tumble together with the wind
toward the fence.

The chair back formed

a lee from the breeze,

a calm around my face.

Sun rays reached down,

solar hands extended touching me

one more time in these

last days of Indian summer.

My face bathed in the waning warmth

for the longest time.

I sighed a sigh of goodness

and peace,

of God-things.