My Life In Word

It's a lazy kind of evening
dog stretched at my feet
swing swaying 'neath my weight
The smell of rain drifting
a gentle breeze brushes my skin
almost cool but not quite
Seventy-seven degrees 
and August almost feels kind
Clouds shoulder across the sky in gray
and the thunder rolls 
like drumsticks on a snare
Crickets strum their tiny violins
while the cicadas moan from the trees
Lightning flashes—
quicksilver behind the clouds
A dragonfly darts by
crooked and hurried
as though late getting home
A lone bird sings her final song 
Welcoming the night
Somewhere, a car alarm answers—
Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep—
While the highway hums itself to sleep
Another warning flash
The storm is coming
The pen retires for the night

Simona A. Brinson