Turn, Turn, Turn

Thousands of starlings fly southwest. Four--I think they're cormorants--fly southeast. Everybody's moving now. I've seen several flitting shapes that look different than the flitting shapes I've grown used to seeing over the summer.

The kingbirds are gone. The scissor-tails are gone. Many of the Great-tailed Grackles no longer have such great tails.

A cricket infestation fails to bring other visitors to the Humanities building. My eyes point downward now. One cricket falls onto my desk, walks a few inches, and somehow manages to flip himself over. He's still there, dead, the next morning.

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them

a time to embrace and a time to refrain

a time to search and a time to give up

a time to keep and a time to throw away

a time to tear and a time to mend

a time to be silent and a time to speak

a time to love and a time to hate

a time for war and a time for peace