The Subtle Passage of Time
Not only that the birds still linger around in great number, but their morning ruckus is getting louder in the chilly mornings. The prolonged darkness of an autumn morning contradicts with the happy chirps and fleeting movements among the foliage, a tug-of-war between what should take place in the timely order of nature and what is. He looks out often in great concern for the winged creatures, fearing that El Niño has fouled their inner clock. Fly south, it's time, he urges silently. As if answering him, a light-green leaf shakes off the clinging finger of its mother and flutters slowly down, scooped up by the lawn- a shade lighter, fragile and small, but detached and resolute.