late july

...and the livin's easy

It was a perfect summer day, the kind you never want to end: a dreamy awakening, soft mist on the water; the morning’s writing a meditation; a cinnamon roll with an old friend, keggers and algebra exams--memories as murky as the pond where they’d skinny-dipped so long ago; an afternoon on the porch with the last book her father had read before his eyes gave out; a nap on a lavender-scented pillow; sheets fluttering on the clothesline. The day lingered in its sweet moments, stretching on as summer does until September slams it shut, a door in the wind.