A Hint of Fall - Aug 27 2023

 

A Hint of Fall

Aug 27 2023

The house has been shut tight

against the hot humid days

and stifling nights

of this summer of discontent.

But not really;

nothing is absolute,

the miasma seeps through.

Stale air

that smells of fried onions

damp laundry

wet dog,

human bodies

and the scented products

with which we gamely attempt

to conceal ourselves.

But on the first decent night

every window's thrown wide.

The curtains flutter

with cool dry air,

and a breeze

with a hint of fall

scours the house.

We are not meant to live

this hermetic existence,

breathing in our own exhaust

cut off from the world.

And after a sultry summer

of sweat and bugs

and too much of everything

     —  over-growing

   and decomposing

   in the fetid wetness and hothouse heat  —

this sweetly scented air

is a welcome respite;

both cleansing

and restful.

The deep restorative sleep

I've been desperate for.