this morning,
the air was crisp like the edge of a
perfectly toasted everything bagel, but
the everything was coolness and warm colors blended together with light from the sun waking up behind the trees overhead.
I stepped outside onto leaves that crunched like a bowl of my favorite childhood cereal that my dad used to pour for me before school, reminding me I need to rake, but giving me reason not to.
My bike ride to work was smoother than usual, due partly to newly greased brake cables, but mostly to the rough heat of summer being scared away by the growing shadow of fall against the city’s antique glass windows.
It’s getting hard to use the senses I’ve taken for granted these past few months, and a first glance at my passing might lead you to wonder why I’m crying, but I assure you I’m okay.

See, the kicker about beautiful things is that they take your breath away.