We are waiting for Tropical Storm Danny and some other low pressure trough from the Midwest to collide over our area this weekend. I wake up this morning and it is dark. The temperatures dropped yesterday, the windows are just cracked and I can’t hear the birds. The air has inhaled, swallowed the sound, the breeze--holds it in, waiting to release.
Burrowing under the blanket my nose pulses with the slight pressure that often arrives at the beginning of autumn. Something grows out there that I’m allergic to, but not badly enough to worry about. I ponder the wardrobe for a cloudy day. I’m nearsighted, extremely so. The view out the window is gray and black and blurred, backed by towering pine trees that without glasses come together in a furry wall. I stare at them thinking how cyclical life is--that even thought I can’t see clearly, the color of the light this morning speaks to summer giving way, letting go, drifting off.
Suddenly the spiked tops of that hazy wall flame yellow and I realize I have been fooled. It is early. The sun is rising later and has just reached over the trees across the street to illuminate the tops of ours. We may be hushed and quiet and waiting, but we’re going have a sunny start after all.