the last of the light
this week i noticed the small signs before anyone says it out loud — the light going a little earlier, the air holding a different kind of quiet. not sad, exactly. just aware. here's what i found on the way out of summer.
the porch

the moths don't know summer is almost over. i didn't have the heart to tell them.
the lawn

i stood just outside the reach of it, the way you do with things you know won't last much longer.
the step

i let them go before it got dark. some things you're only allowed to borrow.
the driveway

the concrete was still warm from a whole summer of days like this one. i wanted to remember what that felt like.
the screen door

it left the exact shape of itself behind and never came back for it. i think about that more than i should.
the swing

it was still moving when i turned around. i didn't need to know who left it swinging, or why summer always ends like this — quietly, when you're not looking.
