A restless breeze blows through the leaves this evening, washing away the remaining traces of today's heat and humidity. While the cooler air is refreshing, there's an edge to it that hints of fall, and I'm not ready for that yet. It's still July for two more days, and I want to continue to absorb as much summer sunlight and warmth as I can--a sort of solar recharge for the cooler months that I know are coming. So this wind makes me a little anxious and on edge, like being faced with an unwanted conflict. It cascades through the trees in a rising rush of sound, indistinguishable from the flowing river. On our after-dinner walk around the block, my hair whipped across my face and waving branches flung themselves in our path. The wind is just toying with us now, but already we can glimpse the faint gleam of its wintry teeth. This is the kind of night when I find myself awake at some odd, early hour unable to fall back asleep, just lying there trying to still my mind and block out the noise of the wind swirling through the yard, crashing against the house. Nights like this I can relate in some weird way to those pampered Victorian maidens who had a fear of "drafts."
As evening descends
wind rises like a flood tide
through shivering oaks.
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