Across the roof it chatters, ruffling the edges, whistling over the eves, howling through the corners, the wind of fall is giving a teaser of the winter to come. Tiny flakes of white swirl through the air, spotting the damp soil, leaving white prints.
Over there someplace the storm rages. Here it is the wind and mild teasers. Moisture is always welcome yet there are times it rides on the backs of lions, roaring, growling, tossing and turning over the land. Tumbleweeds are re-tumbled, looking for a new fence to park on.
The day of no sky, blue replaced by scudding grey, trees waving to the passing wind. Clouds lifting, teasing that there is sky, wind shatters the moment. A clattering of tumbling windprints floating over the land, dueling with the clouds. Lifting clouds, giving hope for a blue moment.
Warm fall days giving way to brisk nights. Days of clouds, cold knives slashing down from the north. Cutting into the memory of winters past and winters to come. The days of autumn are passing, the white days are approaching.
Jack Frost is tapping at the window.