Thoughts on August

It is August already--the time of year when the evenings grow shorter, but glow with a brilliance not unlike a king's palace. Early summer sounds begin to fade; the cars that zoom around the track on Friday nights slowly die away each week, until all you can hear is that solitary race car doing laps alone, envisioning a brighter future come next June. Bird calls and insect hums are still as distinct as ever. They are making the most of short life spans, stretching their days into one mortal song.

College bound teens also make the most of their final days of freedom, before deadlines once again real them in, cramming in all of the lasts with friends until Christmas break. School children excitably prepare for the coming autumn, happily choosing new pencils, backpacks, and clothes.

August is a time of ending. The last impressive opera of summer, and freeway to fall. I felt the chill of death in the air this morning. The temperature was crisp, and my feet felt frigid in the flip flops I wore. Windshields on cars and grass wore the signs of a light frost, sparkling in the light like jewels. Yes, summer is fading in August.