Plummet

August's final day has been its best. No more stagnant, torrid air, but fresh breezes and balmy sunlight and the whir of hovering hummingbirds. Two squirrels frolicked, scrabbling on the bark of a pine. A plane droned overhead, on its way to no fire. Crows cawed as they glided, glossy black against vivid blue sky, and the acorn woodpeckers chuckled. It's taken so long for summer to find perfection this year, but a dusk that brought a genuine chill was worth the wait. Now the trees rustle and hum, and a few oak leaves flutter down, anticipating autumn. Though the heat may return tomorrow, I will be refreshed, and find even a sultry day no longer unendurable, given that fewer such can remain to the waning season. I might even stand in the sunlight again, as I did this afternoon, soaking it up. All this summer's excess may not be forgotten, but their offence has been diminished. Goodbye, August. Your apology is accepted.

( Sunday Verse )