The river calls, but you need to take the first taste of September at the lake. The advancing shadows and the retreating sunlight now become a metaphor for the time of the season. But the evening is still sweet, and you drink it in.
The fish are willing and bright with life.
A breeze swirls out of the south, then switches to the north. The mountains in the lake dance to its tune.
You drift north with the breeze...
Then south with the breeze, letting it call the tune.
Crickets sing constantly, a multi-toned drone that holds the whole world in its embrace. Flocks of cedar waxwings in the willows add their buzzing trills to the chorus.
A single coyote howls and you're wondering if he's still alone when his whole family joins in. You kick in and head for home to join yours.