I don’t know if I’m getting smarter, but one thing I know is I’m getting older whether the clouds come dark or the sun comes bright, and sometimes like now, as I just sit amidst the color of mid-September asters watching how the light slides across the day, I’m taken away, into the shadows of time where yesterday lies waiting for tomorrow,  where my weariness takes me by the hand and leads me to the quiet of now, to where I feel the strength in being alone and hear the music in my heart, and there I look for something I otherwise might not see