September 16th, 2007



The moon slice is thicker than I expected. I hadn't noticed its growth the last few nights. It found a clear sky, the western clouds which veiled the sun during its last decline having dissolved. For an evening hour it looked as though there might be rain, but there's another illusion gone bust. I walked as dusk fell, listening to traffic fade and night bring the buzzing of the insects.

Summer is on the verge of collapse. The days of its ruin are almost unbearably sweet and soft, and the nights are cool, and fragrant with dried grass. Tonight I've heard hooves on the pavement out front, and the crackle of brush being devoured by deer. The dog next door barks. He can see by that faint moonlight, but shortly past eight o'clock I already must rely only the report of my ears. How early it has grown dark!

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