Art by Norman E. Masters
Last night the season turned over, Fall breaking up through the gold surges of summer, quietly, quickly. Morning disclosed the inversion. Behind the east mountain clouds back-rimmed with silver, thin light shafts touched earth through the drift smoke of fires. The sun, rising late and sliding off southward. Coolness and the hush which is Autumn's. All bright calling birds of the summer, departed, the silent brown sparrows moved through withered grasses devouring grasshoppers, and cattle, down from dry ranges, stood tight grouped, and anxious beside long barbed fences, remembering now, the fat, sweet barns of home.