That gentle misty morning drizzle, the soft smell of the north and fresh air falling from early autumn clouds, those things are NOT signs of the end of summer. Phantasms only! The crisp dewdrops falling off long garden stems? Illusions! But nothing oh nothing will stop that calendar, the clock, the slowly sliding sun and moon, from telling the truth: the season is turning, what is past is now past, and tomorrow waits impatiently behind the curtain. Carpe diem, Tulsan!
