September 9th, 2012


This Year

Trees already turn their shade to night while the open fields remain almost as bright as the sun-bereft sky. The breeze that swayed the pines and made them sigh has died down, and the evening's first cicada has begun to buzz the stillness back to life. There was little color to the sunset, and now even the foliage has given over all but the faintest hint of its green.

The most vivid thing in sight is my dead front lawn, which glows with a golden light, but even that will soon be gone. Acorn woodpeckers are chattering their good-nights, and more cicadas are buzzing, joined by a few crickets. Evenings are abbreviated now, and grow more so. I listen to autumn approach and think of the early spring when next an evening will be this long.

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