Autumn has arrived

Autumn has arrived. The sycamore are starting to loose leaves, and the corn fields almost ready to be picked, indications of its arrival. Though the temperature, especially in the evening has cooled, it’s still not quite demanding a sweater. The night creatures haven’t ceased their songs. The last of the tomatoes still cling to the vine, and potato plants withered and hilled, still to be dug. But as this big ball turns and tilts, ever so slightly, I can feel it. The month or day isn’t all that important. Life moves on at its own pace and we humans, merely participants in this universe, move with it. Like the sycamore, the mirror reflecting my image indicate it has begun. The age of summer has gone. The mind is still sharp and the muscles, stronger then most, at least at this age, like the last of the tomatoes. Similar to the songs of the night, plenty of life and work still ahead. But all too soon, it will be time for winter’s sweater. Though seeming early, Autumn has arrived.