Labor Day ‘14
Waiting for rain that hasn’t come. Above the passing cumulus clouds, a prop plane. The gentlest tremble of maple leaves in a breeze too light to stir the wind chime.
Mira reads. Frankie, too—or he’s sneaking more TV. Inside. In the air-conditioning. While we sweat on the deck to enjoy the unofficial last day of summer.
The calm before the storm.
under the apple tree