a tenderness to that last kiss given to summer - a tenderness that leads me home to light candles, to leave the television off, a tenderness that tells me once again to fall into the slow song of the night, to sit in silent companionship with the darkness outside the doors. i find myself softening to these faster, hurry-up days - perhaps the memories of all those childhood septembers remind me of the swiftness of the days; i barely remember the days of this year's summer moving by. i'm not sure i could list any accomplishments - i can't say, as when i was child, today i climbed a tree and for a short while was a mockingbird. perhaps the knowledge that soon i will want all the sunlight the shorter days can offer walks me into the outside, orange and yellow butterflies part of the landscape, masquerading as flowers and leaves until they take to the sky. perhaps it is just that at last the thermometer stays several degrees below 100.
this evening, this last long holiday evening for a while, there is an off and on cool breeze, soft, soft, and there is the end of day birdsong, just chirps now and then as nests are settled into, and only a cricket or two cricketing. there is a neighborhood cat who walks by the open door every night, who has, i think, at last accepted the truth of no maggie cat; he no longer sneaks by, attempting to avoid her, but stops at the door and sometimes takes a step or two inside and wishes me a good evening. my heart feels quite fragile and quite in love with it all.
and suddenly, the air is filled with the sound of crickets.
the birds have all gone silent and to sleep.