Weak Week End

The moon being barely past full, the ground is all shadow-lace, except where deeper darkness pools in those places which were shady refuges from the hot morning sun. More cicadas whine each night. It is cooler now, and I can open the windows. It would be more pleasant if a bit of breeze would blow and rustle the leaves. August is so monotonous. I watch the moonlight creep across the dry lawn and the dim pavement, and wonder where the deer have gone. The roses in the front yard wilt and fall, uneaten. I haven't even heard a raccoon for weeks. The odor of skunk which was frequent for a while hasn't disturbed the air for days. I can't even remember how long it's been since I've heard an owl. If the feral cats didn't visit every night, I'd think all the creatures of the night had gone extinct. Perhaps they are as bored as I am, and are off brooding in the forest. First the fires, and now this dullness. It's a strange summer. I think I'll be glad to see it gone.

( Sunday Verse )