The lone hummingbird flies as the evening softens. The Night Song chorus is preparing a concert book. August says I am but three days old; I have a lot of life left. This August will be special; I will solve the world’s problems, and people will forget about the fantastic fall. ‘After all, I am part of the Big 3, you know,’ August says with gusto. ‘June, July, August are meteorological summer,’ August winked. ‘I have not had a week to produce my master plan for summer year-round and Christmas on the Beach,’ August laughed. ‘A change is coming, welcomed by some and not by others,’ Annie August noted. ‘I have been held back too long; it is my time to shine and show,’ August danced.

‘Hi, Ms August, Sally September said. ‘I will need a place to hang my sweater and light jacket next month,’ Sally S continued. ‘I think I will sleep in the woods where the leaves make such a wonderful multicolored blanket,’ Sally S mused. ‘Do you have hot chocolate in the cupboard?’ Sally S asked with a wink. ‘I will start by saying you can feel fall in the air the third week of August; after that, they will think it is already September,’ Sally S grinned. ‘Folks have romantic ideas about me: ambiance, mood, cool walks in the woods, crackling fires in the fireplaces…,’ Sally S said dreamily.

‘Carved pumpkins, eating pumpkin pie, pumpkin lattes, Pumpkin Cologne, pumpkin sweaters and neckties,’ October said with a laugh. ‘My fan club will not recall your names once I arrive,’ Oscar October said with a saunter. ‘I am the King of Fall, the big kahuna focus of the season,’ Oscar O proclaimed. ‘Ghost stories and bobbing for apples, hayrides, Ichabod Crane, the Headless Horseman,’ Oscar O noted with a wink and a nod. ‘I bring the children Halloween decorations like Christmas for Halloween costumes and candy and old monster movies,’ Oscar O laughed with a mouth like a Jack-O-Lantern. ‘It is warm enough to enjoy the outside with a sweater or a jacket and a good hat in my month,’ Oscar O explained. ‘The leaves are majestic in their color; people drive to Maine to see them,’ Oscar O continued. ‘We think of and plan for the unparalleled greats in my month, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and then I am gone,’ Oscar October said softly.

‘I think November has the prize for Pumpkin Pie,’ Ned November offered. ‘Pilgrims and Native Americans learning how to smoke and plant corn,’ Ned offered. ‘Turkey is our Bird,’ Ned N said with the confidence of someone who had known a lot of turkeys.  ‘Thankfulness, you know, is compelling,’ Ned N grinned. ‘I love coat sweater jacket weather,’ Ned N offered. ‘There is Nip in the air and a little Nip in the coffee,’ Ned N laughed. ‘We think about the good the year has brought us and forget the bad,’ Ned N continued. ‘Home sense of place reflection around the hearth family,’ Ned November offered with a tear in his eye.

‘I hope you did not forget Good Old Santa Claus,’ Santa said. ‘This Christmas will be special, but then again, aren’t they all,’ Santa said. ‘Now come the long nights, the short days and days of understanding,’ Santa noted. ‘We must share with all of the human family a lesson for life,’ Santa noted. ‘Warm yellow mittens and sleigh bells, crisp apple strudel and kittens’ whiskers, or something like that the song says,’ Santa laughed. ‘Ralphie said, ‘Oh Boy that is mine,’ and so do we all,’ Santa observed. ‘This Christmas let us give what we would like to receive,’ Santa observed.

Pastor Meg reminded us this morning of Jacob and the Angels Wresling Match. Jacob received a dislocated hip and a name change. We wrestle a bit with God. His ways are not always our ways. We want the flower-strewn, soft grassy path, and he has a more rugged path for us with stones and boulders and highwaymen and women. Lukewarm is how we like our water temperature. Cherry-picking faith is a popular pastime.

Our sails are set for the rest of 2026. We have made our plans. Plans change. That is the lodestar of life. After your wrestling match, while you nurse your hurting hip, see how your soul feels.

The Sun is setting fast. Sunday has come and gone. Night birds are singing. The quiet of the dark. Many people work at night. I did for much of my career. Night is good for thinking, musing, meditating on what has happened and what is coming.

Look around at the Night People. They have wrestled with God. They ask God the hard questions. Questions that politicians and preachers can not answer. ‘Why is there war?’ Night Person asked. ‘Why do children get cancer?’ NP continued. ‘Why is there homelessness?’ NP asked. ‘When will you save us?’ Night Person asked softly.

‘Listen to me, and I will make you a success,’ the President said. ‘I know more than anyone on most subjects,’ P continued. ‘You are going to win so much that you will get tired of winning,’ P proclaimed.

‘Jesus wants you to be rich,’ the Preacher said. ‘Give until it hurts and you will become rich like me,’ P offered with a laugh. ‘God talks to me, then I tell you what he said,’ P explained. ‘God and I have a direct phone line that he does not give to most folks,’ P said confidently. ‘Do you want to be rich and in good health and live in a McMansion on the hill overlooking the town below?’ P asked. ‘Give all you have to do without eating less, no vacations to build the Kingdom of God,’ the Preacher said.

The Night People watched. The night People prayed. The Night People Wrestled with God.

It feels like fall. The evening light over the trees is etheral. Next month is September. The future is here. Long waits bring pleasant results. Success is incremental.

So life has changed. It changes subtly while we sleep. What we understood is now un-understandable. The President becomes richer; we become poorer. Poor people proclaim in the streets that wrong is right and right is wrong. Justice is for sale, or has it always been? We were for sale from time to time.

The Great Crested Flycatcher is steadily at work. He chirps and watches. The Bullfrog Quartet is shopping for sweaters at L.L. Bean. It is getting dark quicker each evening. Summer watches from the bench under the tree. ‘I still have some life in me,’ Summer says. ‘Do not rush me,’ Summer continues. ‘There are yet more swim days at Pounds Hollow, fireflies to catch, hot dogs to eat,’ Summer pleads with a soft voice. ‘ I have toys to play with, songs to sing, campfires to sit around and tell ghost stories and eat s’mores,’ Summer laughs.

‘Some of those things are my forte,’ Autumn replies. ‘I do the campfires and ghost stories,’ Autumn continues. ‘I am buying supplies as we speak, preparing for a spectacular fall,’ Autumn rejoiced with a cup of hot apple cider and an apple fritter.

The big white cat is waiting. He likes the cool breeze.  Big White Cat heard the tiny laughter of mice. As they scamper and poop and scamper some more. ‘Mice are simple creatures,’ White Cat said with a lick of his paw and a purr. ‘Fall will come soon now, and you will be coming into my house where Grandma and my grandson and I live,’ White Cat commented. ‘Of course there is Spot the Dog,’ White Cat demurred. ‘He is a bit silly on a good day,’ White Cat added with a smug grin. ‘I love to look up as if something is above my head and cause Spot to look up and engage in a fit of barking,’ White Cat laughed. ‘Spot is a simple sort with a good heart,’ White Cat observed.

Mr. Sun was setting. ‘It is going to be a cool night on Brooks Pond,’ Bullfrog said. ‘We shall sing of change,’ Bullfrog noted. ‘A new wind is blowing; I feel it in my bones. Things are going to be different,’ Mr. Bullfrog said with a happy face.