A sudden rush of wind. A startling drop in temperature. The darkening of sky.

I stand at the edge of the pool, gazing up at the top of a grand oak tree. The very first pulse of the storm travels through its boughs, the silver undersides of the leaves twisting and screaming in the wind. Then the delayed arrival of debris and bark, needles from the neighboring pines, falling through that great expanse of dim sky. And then the rain drops, light and few at first, then gathering into torrents ruthlessly thrust by the backing wind.

The deluge is swift, the amount of water the air has held is immense. It is no longer safe to be outside.

Back in the kitchen, the rain beats relentlessly against a skylight. I slide a tray of red potatoes and Brussels sprouts into the oven for roasting. Andy managed to grill the tuna in advance of the storm. I took down the patio awning a few hours ago, and just like that our summer has gone away. The lights are blinking now, the weather advisories are beeping across Andy’s television in the other room. The sky bleeds into night hours before it should.

I never thought it would come this quickly.

It’s never been a secret in my small world that I’m not a big Barbra Streisand fan. I’m certainly no hater, and I have always appreciated her vocal gifts – it’s just not my style, and I’ve never connected with her like I have with other, less gifted singers. When friends started posted the above song from her new album of unreleased tracks, I sighed and begrudgingly gave it a listen. To my surprise, I was moved by the simple rendition of this quietly powerful song. I offer it here for the final stretch of summer. Fall is already in the air, having crept into the nights for some time now, and it’s a moment of reflection, ripe for a song like this.