Falling

My bare feet on the morning pavement
are tickled by the beginning
of nights warmed by fireplaces
and hot chocolate and big brown dogs
sprawled across the floor.

Gently tapping my cheek,
my hair whispers about the coming of
cuddling beneath quilts and smiles from strangers and
crisp morning air.

My nose wrinkles against the nip of the wind
and childishly awaits the season of
afternoon football games and
being thawed out by the sun.

And my toes curl in excitement.