That day in August

I was half cocked that day in August when the light lost its ascendancy. Do you know the day I mean? It happens around the same time as cicadas begin buzzing and throbbing and crickets creak like a thousand wooden rocking chairs on shady wooden porches. I never anticipate what day it will happen. It just happens. Continue reading



It’s the tightrope season. A shaky line between summer and winter that could drop either way – snow or soul shaking thunderstorms; socks in the morning or sandals; trudging steps to inevitable winter or a woozy last skinny dip in the lake at dusk. Continue reading