The leaves rustle
The minutes go by
The mist moves over the distant mountains
In an hour’s time
I know the morning is over
When the soft blanket of heat
Gives way to the tap dance of sunrays
On the mosaic
The evening saunters in, caressing cool
The heat remains, melted
In the cup of sweet tea
Soon the black stain of night starts to spread
And as the singing crickets
Hold the note
I close the windows, bar the doors
The stain takes on a darker hue
Velvet, soft, threatening