a meeting, of sorts

[ Fall approaches, the summer days drawing to a close as the leaves begin to change. A warm breeze ruffles the branches, sending a brief cascade of color raining to the ground. Every so often, one of them touches the lake, clear waters nestled in a quiet clearing. As the ripples spread, there is a moment where the air itself appears to shift.

A breeze from some unknown plane blows in the opposite direction.

Something is about to happen. ]