In the interstice between when fall starts and summer ends
I sit in the back yard
Smoking cigarettes
Looking at the indigo vault of sky above
Wind
The smell of smoke
The rustling of leaves I had missed in the dead
Still heat of summer

Blades of grass beat in peristaltic time
The legs of the chair
Rough and green, weather worn
Me
Grass
Leaves
Smoke
Wind
Blend as I close my eyes
Capturing each fleeting sense
Storing energy for a long hibernation