rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Heating Again

The air has turned still and cloudless again. Eaves blocking the evening sky light crimp vignetted shadows to the walls of all the little houses. This sort of vagueness I've always associated with feelings of melancholy, and with the notion that there's somewhere else, maybe not too far away, where something is going on that would improve my disposition. Summer has begun to noticeably wane, though its hottest days probably lie ahead. I find myself feeling a bit resentful that the light passes from the world earlier each evening. That the nights grow longer at the other end doesn't bother me. Maybe I could delude myself for a while with a daylight saving saving time. I could set the clocks forward again, so that the evenings would seem to remain long, and the light wouldn't come so early in the mornings. But then it would just be August again soon. Oh, being stuck with the whole tilted axis thing is such a drag.

Sunday Verse

A Song in the Front Yard

by Gwendolyn Brooks

I've stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.

I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.

They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it's fine
How they don't have to go in at a quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George'll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he stole our back gate).

But I say it's fine. Honest, I do.
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.

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