I will miss this

The heat of the days causes the maple leaves to hang semi-inflated. They swing in the cooling breeze that rises off of the plains and onto this hill. There is a haze upon the main street and the population of student, teachers, administrators and business folks trade places on the sidewalk in a long drawn out square dance to the music of reving motorcycles and cars with air conditioners. In five minutes I have seen five people to whom I have recently been acquainted, and they wave, smile, or fain a sweat in the near vertical sun rays. I wait for the crossing sign with the others and make my way across the bricks trying to record in my memory their unevenness. But I will leave this place, because it is not home, and it will fade into the haze like Brigadoon and that will be fine. Athens I know your soul.