The tea is steeping.
The fire is dancing.
Here I am sitting,
With a book in my hands.

Outside the wind is blowing,
Cold and dry
Like the breath of a night lizard of the desert.

The biting winds promise for rain,
But the shallow blue skies will not yield to the call
For liquid storms.
So here we all are,
In-between what seems summer and
What seems to resemble the autumn season.
The leaves all round are shifting to warm colors,
Yet much of the vegetation remains lush and green.

This season is one undecided and uncertain,
Like,
I now note,
Many of the realities occurring.
Change and uncertainty is tasted by so many at once,
Just like all of nature round us.
Undecided uncertainty.
What confusion and mystery is life?