Enshrouded

It's always a shock when the summer ends; it gives fair warning, but one day it's bright and hot, then the air chills next morning. Guess I expect it to be more gradual, for no good reason. Then there's the specter of rain falling, visible under the street lights, and its sound a soft backdrop before sleep arrives. Only a couple sessions of the nearby farmers' market left, and the young ones head off on journeys; they've got the urge for going and all that. Wonder if an end of seasons grief is inbuilt. Time to really hit the practice card.