There were no more alligator clouds yesterday, but plenty of conventional cirrus, which came and went all day and all night. For a while, about midnight, a mass of cloud glowed pale in the west while the summer stars sparkled overhead. The air felt cooler, but then it clouded up again and the darkness again became still and stultifying. A few minutes ago I heard a faint noise in the bushes outside my window. It was barely discernable over the hum of the fans, but I thought that a deer might be browsing. I peered out into the night and could smell the unmistakable odor of hot, damp pavement. It was raining! It wasn't much of a rain- just enough to wet the ground and rinse the dust from the leaves- but I enjoyed it, and even went out and got wet in it. So far, there has been no electrical activity, but I can hope. For the moment, the air feels a bit less muggy, and it certainly smells fresher. And I didn't even have to slice out anyone's heart! Thanks, Tlaloc.
The Good Life
by Mark Strand
You stand at the window. There is a glass cloud in the shape of a heart. The wind's sighs are like caves in your speech. You are the ghost in the tree outside.
The street is quiet. The weather, like tomorrow, like your life, is partially here, partially up in the air. There is nothing you can do.
The good life gives no warning. It weathers the climates of despair and appears, on foot, unrecognized, offering nothing, and you are there.