Dim

Evening air brought coolness and the smell of summer dinners, but not even the neighbor's barbecued meats and roasting garlic could obscure the scent of dry grass. Desiccant July now browns the fields and threatens the oaks with arid breezes. Tonight is still and almost silent. Not even a cricket chirps, but a dog barks far off and a car passes along the next road. The moon has not yet risen, and the night seems empty except for the stars and the dark, stolid pines. The lawn crunches underfoot as I walk, as it does when coated by winter frost, but when I shiver it is not from cold. It's the sudden thought that every place I've ever been is gone.

( Sunday Verse )