Wind and nocturnal chill have stripped the trumpet vine of the last of its flowers. It's about time for the hummingbirds to leave. Tonight the moon shares the sky with drifting clouds. Tomorrow is expected to be almost wintry, but there will probably not be rain. I can almost taste the persimmons, and I still have a slice of watermelon in the refrigerator. Autumn like a bridge and I cling to the railing lest I grow giddy and fall.