Summer
I always love the light of a summer evening; it makes everything romantic.
Two pigeons sit perched upon a telephone line, nuzzling each other like time-wearied lovers, nipping at feathers out of place.
The clack, clack of tennis balls against rackets and the pumped-up gusto of players defying the heat to lunge for each strike.
Tall grass swaying in a gentle breeze, and the last rays of the sun yawning through gaps in the canopies of plush trees.
I feel euphoric and unencumbered when the days stretch far into the night. There is an enchantment to summer, and I am very much under her control, I just wish these days weren’t numbered and that the balmy giddiness could last forever.
