The fireplace hisses and crackles
Like fresh apples
Tasted for the first time. A fire
Is not needed, but it coats
The room in a soporific air
Soothing.

The creak of my easychair discloses
A bathrobe and an old pair of pajamas,
A 5 o'clock shadow (though it still is morning) and a
Tender cup of coffee.

The color funnies, already read, sit at
My feet; a brunch of bacon, eggs,
And hash brown rests in my belly.

Outside, the trees go their own gray and bald,
And the air, while not chilly, dampens.
It can only be autumn.