Still Summer

Rain in the morning, a high wind stirs the oaks. Leaves fall fast as drops.

For two weeks summer has been a birthright I've pretended will never end. Each day balmy and placid, each night a symphony of katydid and cricket chirps.

Today, maybe more of the same, if the rain behaves itself, stays tropical and warm, doesn't veer into a chill autumn drizzle.

I know it's only a matter of time before the illusion ends. But I'll take it as long as I can.