Where I live, this is the time of year when one feels something is about to happen. The whole busyness and noise of the holidays of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years are looming on the horizon; there is a glimpse of it in sight. But right now we are coming to the end of autumn, and there is a feeling of regret as if you missed something. All the leaves fall, and you can't stop them. The flowers wither, here today gone tomorrow, and can you stop them? Black Walnuts already done plucking and harvesting, apple season nearing the end. It happened and it is gone. Slowly, the squirrels and birds hurry away to find relief from the cold coming quickly. And I am left alone, wondering what just happened. Slow, slow, slow down the leaves go. Leave? Hardly I see them go. The river flow never seems to cease. What just happened. Ice. I see. I see what happened hardly. Because I studied the going on, the slow plants grow. And lo, at last. The breeze stole it all too fast.

So while I may be looking forward to the things of the future. Remember, what is the tale of who you are? What am I? Slow as an animal snail or fast as wind in a sail. Ah, hope. I have.