I stood at the River’s banks.  Usually after I had coffee and sometimes breakfast at the local diner on the way home I would stop at the bank of the River and gaze out at the surface of the water and the mountains.  I never spent a long time there.

It has been several months since I was at this spot.  The wind was blowing on the surface of water stirring it up.  It was not too cold and not too warm.  Rain clouds were in the distance.

Fall had come.  There was a slight chill in the air although I really wasn’t cold yet.  Coming here is always like entering another world.  Sure I often pass the River from a distance but peering out from its shore is always a different experience.

Too much time had passed from my last visit.  Now I no longer wanted to be here.  It was a little uncomfortable although it still was a mild sixty-two degrees.  I knew I would now only view the River from a distance until it got warmer again.

There was some regret:  too much time had passed since my last visit.  I had missed too much.  Its face is always different:  The lighting is always different on the sky, water and mountains and trees.  Every visit.  I now will await the warmer weather.