• Johnny Carrol Sain

Late August

Songbirds silent in the dawn as crickets chirp from their secret places.

Hull crumbles pitter-patter on tired green leaves as squirrels cut hickory nuts in the tree tops.

Monarchs float through milkweed and morning glory in soft misty light as dew-laced spider webs shimmer white in the slight stirring.

Summer’s auburn deer fading into autumn’s timber-gray ghosts nibbling on purple beautyberry and poke sallet.

It’s still warm. It’s still humid. It's still summer But a subtle and delicious change is in the air.


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