Everything is still, except for the breeze...

Late summer nights have a magic all their own. I'm sitting with the window open (finally, it has cooled off a bit), and a breeze whispers in, bringing chirps, clicks, burps and bellows from any number of unknown but benign creatures of the dark. The room, the house, the world is so still I can hear the tick of my watch, marking the passing of time, my summer, my life.

The air smells of freshly-mown grass, sweetpeas, and the distant promise of rain. I think of all the plans made in May that never came to pass, all the beautiful lazy days, how I wish I could make nights like this last forever.

In my childhood, summer passed in the blink of an eye, although some days seemed to go on forever. As a teen, there was never enough summertime. Now there's never enough time, period. I suppose that's why I notice the little things lurking in the summer night now; their voices are a chorus of song written just for me. The breeze is even sweeter when you know what a gift it is to feel it against your skin. You really live when life is half over--the second half is so much better because you appreciate it. As Bonnie Raitt says, "Life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste."