There is a hint of fall in the air this evening. The long, hot summer is tired from the heat. It is time for all good summers to rest and reflect. Summer began with gusto and purpose. There were kids to entertain and Memorial Day to cook out and relax. Swimming and the pool or pond became the rhythm of the day. It was a jazz beat. Moscow Muels and no Putin involved. There was Disney World and matiness. Hamburgers from Moo and Cackle and Oscar Mayer Weiners. Thoughts of fulfillment on Treasure Island or adventure on the Island of Dr. Moreau. Edgar Allen Poe was there with his melancholy stare. Nevermore, the Raven said. It is almost time for the State Fair. There will be Monroe’s Taffy and funnel cake. The Headless Man and a sense of mystery and forboding around every corner. The trip of the year to the Fair. The adventure of the summer. The Carny said you should come on Sunday, as Labor Day is the end of the Fair, and we like to close early.

The Governor is usually the leader of the Fair Parade, but this year it is our local hero, Glenn, who was almost Governor. Glenn is a poet. He helps kids. He has a sense of place.

The nice lady at the Cigar Store told me that the donation jar was for her son. He wanted to see the Ocean. He is sick. The Old Man had tears in his eyes.

Neva J sang, ‘She will be coming around the mountain when she comes.’ I was looking for her and the mountain. Now I see her in the distance. My goodness, she is riding six white horses.

The Turkey Family was relocating yesterday at the Woods. What an impressive processional. They were headed for a different spot to call home. They were living near the entrance of the Park next to a busy road. Often, cars stopped to see why the turkey crossed the road.

Grandma is walking the dog this evening. Her walk is patient and with purpose. Grandson must be doing his homework. The Bullfrog Quartet is tuning their instruments. It is near the curtain opening.

Someone said we see through a glass darkly. With Windex, the glass gets clearer. Listen for the squeak of cleanliness. The kids are shutting their books…there is still time to catch fireflies in memory of summer gone.