Slowly with a clockwork ancient rhythm the northern world shifts back on
its axis. The nights arrive in temperate balmy evenings and all that remained
hidden on the margins of deep summer dusk now become visible in the timely
flowing gloom that arrives earlier each day. Clouds traverse the sky like lace overlaid
on cerulean cloth that slowly catches fire in the dusk. As the west bound embers
decay, cool air rushes into the remains of the day and in all her glory dusk
takes command of the world.
Now arrives the time of the night creatures to enjoy
the longer darkness. Bats inhabit the cool air catching insects in angular
swooping patterns. To hunt and feed; grow rich on autumn’s bounty before the
winter world hides them from sight deep in lairs and holes, cracks and crevices.
It is a time of harvest, of doubt, but of great hope. That ever winter shall
rage with fury against the world. But we all shall be safe and warm till the
spring.
