Still Heated

Another day of heat, the air filled with tiny insects swirling like sediment in an agitated glass. The shade was still and its atmosphere oppressive, the day's engulfing brightness squeezing it, leaving it shrunken. Sun-dessicated leaves have begun littering the brown lawn. All you can do on such a day is wait for the earth to turn you away from the sky's blaze.

Crickets then report the cooling, and you can open the windows and emerge from the darkened house, and go sniff the last few jasmine blossoms. Their reminder of spring is like a balm, soothing the fever late summer's fury brings. August never goes without a fight, but go it must. September is waiting.


( Sunday Verse )