So, I went today, on this nice crisp Autumn afternoon, for a motorcycle ride. And as I turned a corner I passed on old man with a cane, standing in his front yard and we exchanged waves. He looked right at my eyes, and even though I doubt he saw through my visor and shades in the brief instance of that glance, I felt the sensation of recognition. This old man, in the Autumn of his life, recognized something from his past: a motorcycle ride to nowhere, with no time limits, cares, or concerns. And me, while younger, still not that far from my own personal Autumn, saw a glimpse of a possible future. As I zipped by the trees, all dressed out in their Harvest Ball best, I was reminded that nothing stays the same. The maple that was not long ago virile and dark green, is now brittle and orange. And I acknowledge the likely hood of that old maple one day giving up one of its limbs to fashion me a cane, so that I may better walk out to the edge of my yard and wave at my past as it speeds by on a red Honda. But old maples aren't bothered by these facts, as they know that just as sure as the orange will fall away to the earth, that I too will also fall away and become one with this same earth to ensure that they in turn become green and virile again, once the weather turns another corner, as it always does.
Rodney J Owen