rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The first cricket chirps evening's arrival, risking the attention of the last birds. There were cirrus clouds today, great swoops of creamy white so thin they cast no discernable shadows. I took a few minutes to watch them. Monday is a busy day, and there is more to be done.

The cat no longer comes to sit on my lap in the evening, but sleeps in one of her hidden spots. Early in the morning, when I go to bed, she still hops up to climb on me for a while and purr as I scratch her ears. That is now the only time she desires attention. She is grooming herself less, and beginning to smell a bit ripe. I laundered the top bedding today, and might have to do so again tomorrow. It's a matter of days.

The lilies have begun to wither quickly in the unaccustomed heat, but the rose bushes have produced a dozen new blooms and sport more than a hundred unopened buds. It will be a spectacular display. I wish I could feel greater anticipation for it.

All day, I have wanted to see places which have been gone for decades. The florid days of spring this year are haunted.

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