The season's changing.

It is funny how even though I am so disconnected living in an urban environment (Downtown Tulsa). My mind is telling me things are changing. I was out watering the garden, yesterday when I noticed the sun was shining on the plants at a different angle. First thing that came to mind was summer is ending, the season is changing. I came across this poem about this phenomenon. Even though it is 100 F outside I feel cooler weather is on the way.

Something told the wild geese

It was time to go,

Though the fields lay golden

Something whispered, "snow."


Leaves were green and stirring,

Berries, luster-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers

Something cautioned, "frost."


All the sagging orchards

Steamed with amber spice,

But each wild breast stiffened

At remembered ice.


Something told the wild geese

It was time to fly,

Summer sun was on their wings,

Winter in their cry. - Rachel Field