The air is cool as the leaves fall gently to the ground. Silhouetted against the icy blue sky, the mind heads south, trying to escape the wrath of the coming winter.
Summer tries to hold on, providing false hope to all.
Still, the scent of icy inevitability urges us on, a reminder that time, in its cyclical beauty and in alignment with each season, can not be counted on to preserve the past.
But the past continues to dominate, caressing each memory, changing them to align with our reality, making the unpredictably of life what sustains life.