The sun is rising perceptibly later each day as the last days of summer give way to autumn. The fog that shrouded the full moon all night softens the early morning landscape.
Birches started giving up yellow leaves some time in the last week or two; now the maples flash scarlet here and there, a preview, a teaser.
In the road ditches, ferns stand crumpled and brown from frost. Goldenrods and blazing star are a whispered hush of their former hues, while asters give one last show of white and blue and purple.
The skies are full of activity as migrant birds make their way south. Among the golden leaves of the birch outside my window, warblers blend in with their muted yellows as they glean insects. Raucous threads of Canada geese ripple through the air. Sandhill cranes trumpet in their ancient voice, unseen as they soar with the thermals or rest and feed in fields.
Days fly by as I go about my human activities. I just want to pause, to gather in every moment of a golden September day so I can feel the warmth on my face on some gray winter day.