Tired.

The weather's getting cold, and leaves fade in shades of sunset rays.

It's fall and almost winter.

Wasn't winter just here? Was it that long ago, when people were complaining about winter never ending? Where did spring go? And summer? How did I miss the footsteps of fall, and fail to see the beauty of the changing seasons?

How time flies when one is busy. The intervals of surfacing for air are so very long and far in between. That one can pass from week to week and month to month without acute awareness of the pass of time seems like active denial of who and what we are.

Where has the last year gone? Where have the last five years gone?

And what am I doing as time passes by?

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