Morning Fall Poem by Natasa To

The hush of dawn, a softened glow,

Spreads amber light on earth below.

The trees stand draped in crimson gowns,

Their golden leaves drift gently down.



A breath of chill, a sky of gray,

The warmth of summer slips away.

Yet in the hush, there lies a spark—

The fire of fall, both bold and dark.



Mist curls above the sleeping ground,

Each sound is soft, each step profound.

The world awakes in coppered hues,

With dew-wet grass and muted blues.



The crows call out from branches bare,

Their echo stirs the morning air.

A mug of steam between two hands,

A moment still, as daylight stands.



This is the hour when time feels slow,

When silence teaches us to know:

That beauty lies in fleeting things—

Like falling leaves and folding wings.



So rise with fall, and breathe it in—

The golden hush, the cooling wind.

For morning's song, both sharp and sweet,

Makes every ending feel complete.