The Earth Turns, And The

The Hush Comes With The Deepening Of Autumn; But It Comes Gradually. Our Ears Are Attuned To It, Day By Quieter Day. But Even Now, If One Awakens In The Deep Darkness Of The Small Hours, One Can Hear It, A Foretaste Of Winter Silence. It’s A Little Painful Now, And A Little Lonely Because It Is So Strange.

To Know After Absence The Familiar Street And Road And Village And House Is To Know Again The Satisfaction Of Home.

Listen To It, And You Are Hearing The Mighty Currents Of The Air Rushing Down The Latitudes Of The Earth, Currents From The Mackenzie And The Athabasca And The Saskatchewan, And From The Prairies And The White Tundra. It Is A Homeless Wind, Forever On The Move.

He Who Travels West Travels Not Only With The Sun But With History.

Man Is Wise And Constantly In Quest Of More Wisdom; But The Ultimate Wisdom, Which Deals With Beginnings, Remains Locked In A Seed.