Shift

The other night, leaving work, I noticed the chilly air, and the crescent moon through the trees. There was a breeze, and the leaves, which are starting to dry, made whispery rustling sounds moving against one another. The days are still hot, and the sun is still fairly high in the sky, but there's an autumnal feeling to an August night here, the new season creeping in under cover of darkness, gently beginning the shift while everyone is sleeping. Within weeks, that chilly night breeze will convince the sun to slide downward, to spread its warmth more gently, shine its light at a sideways slant. And the night chill will become bolder, lingering into the mornings, and settling into the afternoons well before the sun has set.