Dry

The essence of the moment is warm, dry grass. The smell of it is pervasive today. Part of a dandelion arrives to colonize my arid lawn, intricate white fretwork catching afternoon light. It settles through stillness and vanishes behind a bush. There is a bird cracking nuts somewhere nearby, the slow rhythm of pecks echoing along the deserted street. A bit of drifting spider silk brushes my face. I could easily mistake it for one of my more substantial thoughts.

( Sunday Verse )