| From My Porch The summer-decked trees fade to black. Each twig and quivering leaf prefectly, crisply limned against the washed-out blue. Oncoming night is a slow, steady dye as the yellow-gold removes itself and the first crystal chip magically materializes. "Starlight, star bright..." some things cannot be silenced. The robins and sparrows are chuckling amongst themselves; the spider's rebuilding its web for the fourth time today. Across the meadow, a thick cotton of ground-fog crawls out of the woods to the boundary of my yard. Orion and the Bear and Cassiopeia continue their endless nightly debate. Venus simply is, her flaming self due to dance with the moon in the wee hours. What does dew smell like? Like something sweet and sour and musty and fresh. The bats are out, the little devils, picking off mosquitos as an excuse to perfect their arial stunts. My kind and I are the only ones thinking of sleep; For the rest, the night has just begun. PamEhli/2001 |
| Since 1-20-03 |
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