The summer is coming to an end. The sweet wheat of autumn approaches. There is a unique longing in the summer, which will turn to contentment in the months to come. I await the colors of fire, blood and dandelions. The crunch of stale leaves beneath my feet is palpable even now. I will welcome the brisk sweater buttoning winds. But I will miss the freeing endless evenings. Do not look back too long. There are violent terrors. The future is unwritten yet. I know as it unfolds I will embrace it. I will do the best I can.