What do I know?

What in the world do I know this morning?

I know that Deer Creek waters flowed along as I walked on Walters Mill Road.

I know that the horse shelters continue to stand so firm and sturdy in the meadows. They scoop up morning light into their shallows and depths. Faces open south-east, they are filled (or not) according to the seasonal angle of the sun, according to sky clarity or cloud cover in any specific moment.

I know the two-thirds full trench silo at the Walters farm has been covered and the cover weighed down.

I know leaves fell around and on me when the breeze moved briskly. Each morning, recently, more leaves lie on my deck.

I know my body temperature felt just right as I strode along clad in long pants, shirt and sweatshirt. The calendar says Autumn begins Friday, but the air whispers, "Time, it's time..."

I believe for this minute, this hour, I know enough, and even in the midst of all my uncertainty I am content.