Tonight there was a beautiful sunset, and it was cold. I stood by the end of the trail that led to the road, and drafted four lines with a steady voice:

Many clouds travelling
In this season of change,
Many sides of the sky
No longer the same.

For so long had I forgotten, what spring and fall felt, and here they were, fully presented. The orange tones, rain remnant.

When this month first began our family went blueberry picking. The drive to Whiteshell was around two hours,

“This summer didn’t go by quickly but now it’s already gone.”