Breathe deeply. Ah, yes . . . Fall is in the air. Soon there will be a trickling of tree leaves as summer's cup overturns and spoon-handled birch stir a little in the grove. And earth, cleanshaven, soon should yawn a little, and sigh sweetly, and lie meekly to be tucked in night-whitely. Ah . . . Ah, yes, Autumn combs her hair.