“…lips half-willing in a doorway,
lips half-singing at a window;
eyes half-dreaming in the walls,
feet half-dancing in a kitchen.
Whilst the clocks half-yawn the hours,
and the farmers make half-answers…”
It happened this morning… as I was arriving home from another long night at work, I saw the first sign of the season.
Far more subtle than a silvery dew-frost upon September corn, for we are still a good way’s away from Autumn, yet sufficient enough for me to see the next bend in the trail.
As I walked up to my doorstep, I saw a single yellow leaf drift lazily from the slender Maple in our my front yard and come to rest next to a small smattering of his fallen brothers. Seeing this, I stopped where I stood, and looked around…
‘Twas a bright August morning, to be sure, yet I noticed the blooms were beginning to show the first signs of wilting and the deep leafy greens of Summer were paling ever so slightly.
Seeing even the slightest harbinger of milder days to come is a pleasant diversion. A prescient glimpse into a season of ciders and harvest fruits, of Friday night football games, of raking piles of leaves and my children gleefully diving into them.
Of course, it’s certainly not time to break out the overcoats yet. Autumn does not come to East Texas until late October, and we will continue to see plenty of sultry afternoons until then. Our days rarely dip below ninety degrees and the evenings tend to hover right around seventy.
In the meantime, there is still Summer’s remnant left to fulfill in purposes and events. To every thing there is a season.