How can the summer be gone so quickly? There will be children going back to school soon. The mornings feel cool these days, damp already like autumn mornings. So soon comes the change of seasons, so quickly the year runs away. What have I gained? What have I lost? Can one know? It is another grey morning. A haze of moisture rolls away. Swallows sit shoulder to shoulder on power lines just north of the village. Two migrant workers walk south down Highway E towards the canning factory. The migrants have been here all summer. Their Mexican darkness stands out in the whiteness of rural Wisconsin. They do the work we cannot find anyone else to do. On Watson Street in Ripon, a black squirrel crosses in front of me. A little mist has beaded on the windshield. The sun knows where it is hiding but does not show itself to us. Another day underway.
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