September 28th, 2008

caillebotte_man at his window


Heat brings haze, and evening brings dusty orange horizons, while a few indistinct puffs of cloud fade white to gray as the sky's light drains. Dark brown leaves now fleck the golden brown lawn, late summer's dessication meeting autumn's. Motionless, the pines lose detail, becoming silhouettes. The last bird-calls fade and the first stars appear. The gray cat slinks near (but not too near) and settles, taking the attitude of a Sphinx. He asks no riddles, though, confident that dinner will soon be served.

Dusk's repose makes me wonder if I can stir myself. It is so tempting to merely sit, as quiet as the cat, and await the first cool breeze nightfall must bring. I stir anyway, and on my two legs fetch the cat's food. I return indoors. He waits for the door to close and then trots to the bowl. Most of the moonless night will belong to him, but I will emerge to see the stars and sniff the cooling air now and then. Plenty of time, I tell myself. Plenty of time.

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