|(there is more color than this now)|
"The sky walker will be abroad tonight. He always walks the moonlight. Autumn moonlight in particular, when the katydids have almost ceased their rasping chorus. No doubt the sky walker strides the land at other times as well, but his presence can best be known when the Autumn quiet lies upon the hills.
Go out in the moonlight and watch the treetops, if you would know the sky walker. The night is silent as a moonbeam, the trees themselves untouched by as much as a wisp of a breeze. Then there is a far-off whisper, a crisp sibilance in the distance. It grows, and the leaves of a whole treetop are in motion, crisp Autumn leaves not yet fallen from the branch. Then the next tree is touched, and the next, and a whole path of rustling leaves becomes evident. The sky walker has come striding through those trees, scuffling the leaves ahead of him as a schoolboy scuffles the roadside leaves on his homeward path at sundown. And when he has passed by, there is silence again, the silence of still leaves in October moonlight.
No one ever sees the sky walker, and no one ever will. Sometimes he seems to be there in a wisp of mist; but at best the watcher has seen nothing more than the sky walker's mist-white moccasins, perhaps not even the moccasins but only the momentary scuffle of mist risen dustlike from his footsteps. No one has ever seen him, yet he must be there, making his moonlit rounds when the leaves are brittle with Autumn. We have heard him often as he passed by, particularly when the moon is at the full and we ourselves are full of understanding." Hal Borland Sundial of the Seasons