Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see’st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west…Shakespeare

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.
We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.
And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling. Rilke

“In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.” 
― John Muir
Sunny and beautiful morning on a hike I took in mid October 2013 at John Bryan State Park in Yellow Springs, OH

Sun in an Irish Garden - Dublin, Ireland

Yesterday's sunrise on the Ohio was gorgeous and my spirit danced.  I took an early morning walk with a friend and watched a coal barge slowly float down the ohio as the sun came up.  

The rising sun brings a warm smile to my tired soul.
Winton Woods At Dawn Today