rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

In the Dark

Heat intensifies the smell of gardenias tonight, the cloying sweetness underlain with an odor of decay. They will soon be gone, half the blossoms already having turned brown. I will not miss them. The inoffensive daisies, though, I will miss. They too have suffered from the intense days, and fall into decline, withering atop their long stalks. In nearby yards there are large oleander bushes with red blossoms which will also soon fall. Only the persistent rose bushes still produce new buds, and will continue to flower throughout the summer.

Tonight, the waning moon picks out a few of the paler roses, and they glow amid the shadows. Other objects catch the light, as well; a window here, a weather vane there, a mailbox, an insulator on a utility pole, a television antenna, a small stone painted white that marks the corner of a driveway. All these mundane fragments of the daily world are transformed by reflected gleam into things that catch the eye, suggesting hidden wonders scattered through the night. I forget their familiar true nature and imagine them to be glimpses of something larger to be discovered. The summer night has fevered my brain.

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