Thunder in the morning. Thunder in the evening. Wind swept grass. Dust swept car. A standing chill. A missing heat. Stretching branches and swaying trunks.
A day in waiting.
Clouds dark and low. A soft light. Looking out over the tops of trees, the tops of houses behind the clouds. Like the background of a scene. Only the scene won’t start. The wind stands still. The hush of the trees grows quiet. Crickets chirp. Frogs croak. Nothing falls.
A day in waiting.
Le Ciel est Bleu 