First day of September, again, season turning round the bend, I sit on a log, pondering the drama, listening, feeling, wondering, so many leaves to fall, as I sit in the green, pondering, how time charges on, pays no attention to whether I stop or not, yet stop I must, try to embrace the moments that easily slip away, and then I observe a shadow of a leaf on a leaf, and though I can’t explain why it brings a feeling of relief, a moment of light, before I, like time, move on.