The heat should reach its peak today. Excited air will shimmer on the pavement, parched fields will crackle with exploding seed heads, still forest glades will be heavy with the scent of pine resin. Even the shaded vales with their sluggish streams will be sultry, their quiet broken only by the buzz of insects and the occasional fall of a wilted leaf. I will keep the house closed and dark, to hoard what little cool air has managed to find its way in by night. On days such as this will be, I don't like to venture out until evening. But now, before dawn, I will go out to see the smile of the crescent moon, recently risen, and the bright point of Venus, and listen to the lawn sprinklers. I hope for even the slightest breeze, that I might carry its memory fresh to my dreams.