Sometimes I flip through my paper journal to see what I wrote in the past. Here’s the entry for 9.20.02…
So now, lounging in the cool outdoors,
September eve, and the trees do shake,
Clouds mix with vapor trails,
Marring the frank permanence of the autumn sky.
That permanence is an illusion.
When heat returns,
The sky shifts like a liar,
Remembering its whiter, plainer side.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
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