On the North Wind, a Passage — by Alex Ranieri

You would hardly guess such a thing, from the complacent, undulating heat, the proliferation of cicadas and dragonflies, and the ambitious branches, which every day put forth leaf on leaf—but the first warning of Autumn is abroad. The north wind has become more insistent, more mournful—it pleads with us not to forget, we are of a moment, and not for all time. This is why the birds seem to warble louder and the cicadas cry incessant. They would drown out this reminder, they defy the necessity of change. Yet these same rebels, come September, will look to their winter berths across the seas and under the earth; and you and I will have to rely on the cardinal and the pine for company.