Sunday Afternoon

[rejectomorph]

The day has turned hot, and a thin overcast makes the sky a powdery shade of blue. A slight dampness hints of the tropics. There might be rain within a few days. For now, there are butterflies. They particularly enjoy the lilacs, and the bush is seldom without a few pairs of dark wings fluttering from blossom to blossom. The day brightens or dims with the mood of the sky, the shadows fading in and out. The cat lies quietly in a shaft of light, breathing slowly. I merely wait.