Goodbye, July

Whatever the cat is finding these nights must be interesting. She stays out for hours. Perhaps she's only finding a cooler place to sleep that this summer-struck house. The walls seep the last of July, and what cool air enters the windows enters slowly, barely displacing the building's hoarded heat. The jasmine and gardenia blossoms are now too few and have grown too weak to scent the night. Dark, unstirred, the leaves hang, bereft of moonlight or breeze as summer steals past, as quiet as a stalking (or sleeping) cat.


( Sunday Verse )

Bonus Verse.