Half Moon

It is very dry here. Nothing grows. Some things ripen. The fall garden is not. So we plan for winter now. The leaves on the trees brown and fall off. Even weeds wilt. The insects are fewer.

We were down at the front creek the other day and a hawk soared, followed by a buzzard. The silence amazes me, and what all can be heard therein. The water laughed with the rocks. The crickets talked cricket talk. A deer snorted from the edge of the woods, expecting as he was to graze in peace. Almost no cars passed, but if they had, even only feet from the road, they couldn't have seen us.

The great blue heron held his silence. The black puppy found a home.