The wind is high, as are the tails and noses of happy dogs. The sky is cloudy, and then blue, and then cloudy. The lake... the northwest wind blowing it out instead of in, has goosebumps. There are sweaters and the smell of woodsmoke. Colorful leaves, those early turncoats let go their moorings and fly to fate.
Fall is here.
Robin, You are a special being.
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