Another month is fading out, sunshine giving more room for cloudy days and the sound of rain barely heard over the whir of the fan in the humid darkness. No longer summer but not yet fall, the trees hang quietly dripping the last of the night’s rain in preparation for the next dark clouds blowing across the middle of the day to lash the window with blurring streams.
The green remains in the leaves which in turn remain on the trees, keeping them clothed for a little while longer. Soon enough the autumn which in other places hails the brightest of colors, the crispest of mornings, the frost on the ground, and the smell of raked up piles burning to ash. Here, quieter colors tempered by quieter growth tempered by duller light, soggy mornings, soggy coats, and the smell of soggy mold.
Not always. Today can be confused with always. Today, the humidity is weighing me down.