Fall is in. Winter is tip toeing on her heels---pretty much like Tom spying on Jerry. The roads looked sqeaky clean blue in the morning. Everyone is rushing to go somewhere, finish some job, hoping that their to-do list is completed by the end of the day. After last night's sprinkly rain, the sky is at a loss for anything to say. At least until the next vortex of pressure is created close to the seas. A nice cool wind blows as I watch out of my window. The trees sway to the last musical moods of the October breeze. They dance carelessly the last few times for this year, until they are ordered to stop being payful, zip their lips, bereft of all make up, rouge and powder--- cursed to stand at attention for the next six months because of this wantoness. I watch them as they watch me--waiting for our cues, our signals, for the beginning of yet another winter on the face of the earth.