We wait at the school bus stop in the summer sun. The air conditioner is on high at 7:30 a.m. It just cannot be that summer is over. There is a dogwood tree that I watch, next to a wild aster. They are my calendar, my watching, waiting for fall to come.
One foggy day, the dogwoods leaves have a tinge of red, now the berries show their cardinal souls. The aster that has looked like an ugly weed all summer explodes into a wild white bush, excited, thankful bees all around. Relax, close your eyes, fall has come.