She slept with windows opened and rose to morning room of surrounding cool. Air shocked her skin. Cool woke her sense as she moved in immersion of being.
Sun rose in ascent, dawn’s hues of magenta and orange casts condensed into focal gold concentric around sun in horizon-break.
With sun’s rise, morning wind moved in stir of the thermal change; sweep of a cool at touch of a warmth and she smiled in though how, that way, she and sky were same.
Late November lawn shown green, a strangeness to hear and season. True cold had not yet come, and so she lived and made the most of autumn’s essence even after colors fell away.
She looked to limb in window view and thought ahead to spring. For now, it was bare. In time, it would blossom again, fuchsia dappled in the bloom.
She thought of the color. She thought of the season—vibrance and life returned from autumn’s die and winter’s waiting, a romanticism of nature-way.
Before window stand, touch of the cool, redbuds of her body raised. She covered with arms warming beneath, lovely and sense of nature-way.
Sun rose further. She felt the light. She felt it’s touch, wind-stir of sensed effect. She lowered arms and poised stood presenting to the sun, light-bathe warmth upon her openness.
Redbuds raised again. She smiled, a beauty of nature-way.
She breathed deep the nature-air through open window into room, scent and feel of cool’s grace changed in the rising sun.
From window’s vantage, she moved beginning into dress for day: denim jeans, black shoes with lift; white tank, close fitting, and chartreuse sweater over all.
Autumn’s leaves were fallen, but she chose still to live in bright.
She passed once more the window view before descending into day. She looked again to redbud limb, barren in its waiting. She thought ahead to spring and wake, fuchsia dappled color in raising back to life.
Spring’s thought made her smile as she stood again in sun. Redbuds gentled back, waiting, tempered under warmth and cover of her bright.