August

Katydids, day and night, chirping back and forth, back and forth, occasional soloist, an intoxicating rhythm.

Warm evenings that hug you as you step outside.

Endless hours on the porch swing: reading, thinking, crying, being.

Ripe tomatoes, fresh from the vine, still warm from the afternoon sun, sliced thick and carefully placed on Wonder Bread with just a smidge of Duke’s mayonnaise and several shakes of salt.

Okra blossoms, the softish of yellow, opening up in the warmth and humidity.

A cool breeze, causing a momentary shiver, a harbinger of fall weather that will be upon us soon.

Dad’s birthday. Remembering him and the gifts he shared. Missing him.

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