Welcoming

Final flowers droop on trumpet vine and oleander. One gardenia bud is barely opened, and one white blossom releases fragrance. The evening air is early cooled by the gathering clouds which lie across the western sky like a vast gray surf rolling in. Dry oak leaves skitter down the street when dusk brings a breeze. The impending gloom is irresistible. Even as the darting squirrels played about the trees this afternoon I was counting the hours until October would arrive. I envy every place which has already received that symbolic tick of the clock. Away, September!

( Sunday Verse )