Late summer nights like weak tea
sunset dipping down
August moon alight
fireflies sparkle about
touching flitting not ready to stop
frenetically playing their games before summers end
summer nights casting shadows where black cats lurk
Hide and scamper under starry skies piercing the blackness
I emerge from the cool catacombs of air conditioned rooms and sink into
the freedom of breeze and bugs and feel as though I’ve missed something
of this day.
Summer’s flipping by fast-closing it’s final chapters.