Quaking aspens rattled in the continuous breeze. Their golden leaves were cast to the ground, some swirling to join others piled up at the base of the trees or against a bush, as they chanted a sweet melody. Long white knobby fingers extended from the limbs to scratch the side of the cabin. In the distance, the river sang a soft comforting tune.
The mid morning hours of darkness came to life though there was little to be seen. Several pairs of eyes captured by a flashing light peered from the tall grass. The cool fall winds blew mournful cries across the prairie that sounded like a wounded animal whimpering from its den. Just when the wind subsided, a low growl or yip of a dog on the hunt broke the moment of silence. And then there was nothing. Where had the sounds come from? How could they be so close and then so far away?
In the morning hours, I searched for the source of the sounds the breath of autumn whispered night after night. I scanned the countryside and looked for signs of life that roamed in the twilight – but found nothing. As I pondered the mystery, a gust of wind flew over the tall dry grass on the prairie. There were the sounds I had heard in the night! I stepped into the open and searched the sky. There on the roof of the cabin was a wind vane twirling as each waft caught the directions of the wind sending its arms spinning. With each turn, the screeching sounds I had heard in the darkness no longer carried the sorrowful dirge. No longer did the darkness seem quite so dim.
