July Being July

The moon is just past full, but still looks full, glaring down on the sultry forest. Nearly midnight, and it is still hot outside. A few more crickets have begun to chirp. There is now almost a chorus of them, and tonight its beat is rapid— the landscape's racing, overheated pulse. It's as though night itself were anxious, threatened by something unseen, or maybe by that enormous moon that has risen above the pines, like a balloon set free to be lifted on the thermals the ground generates. It will take all night for the earth to sweat yesterday out, and then morning will blaze up and start it all again.


( Sunday Verse )