Yesterday, the wind blew so strong
that he found himself experiencing
a bit of apprehension, a prelude to
fear of what might come near.

Today, there is hardly a flutter in
the birches let alone the maples
and oaks. The fish are very still
in the cold water of the pond.

Birch leaves float on the surface —
the first of the leaves to fall
this new fall. Maples will follow
but the Oaks will hold tight.

Soon the man and his wife will
shelter the lawn furniture, drape
a net across the pond, stop the
pump and start the bubbler.

He stands on the balcony looking
down at the zinnias, the pond,
waterfall and pine grove. Even
without wind blowing, he shivers.