I’m holding the hand of Summer as it slips into the starless darkness serenaded by frogs, crickets and cicadas. It has left us for a while. I resist the urge to cling and scream, “Noooooo!” because it is futile. I must let Summer go. It is the natural order of things. The water in my creek tumbles forward into time, not missing a beat, not knowing the seasons have changed. A cool breeze gently chills the night, a harbinger of the cold future that awaits. Yes, fall distracts us from the reality of the frigid future we face with its colorful displays and crunchy carpet, but I am not fooled. Although, truth be known, every season has its beauty, Summer, you’re the best.