I walk in the evening air or run in the morning  and feel the season changing from one thing to another – sultry shifting to crisp. Crickets sing their odes to the final days of summer.

At sunset a honking formation of geese flew over our heads. Twenty, thirty so close  we could hear their wings beating like a satin throb. “Where are they going?” my daughter asks me.  Somewhere else, somewhere warm.

The wheel of life turns and each day we are a little older … and time waits for no one.