Summer Haze

“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe…” —Evelyn Waugh

When it is hot, the fruits of the vine are sweeter than ever.

The watermelons, bursting with refreshment.

The blueberries and blackberries, dark and succulent.

The lack of classmates and classes and homework and distractions of work and adulthood, watching the butterflies flutter in the hazy air like a dream.

Warm nights, windows open with the crickets chirping after the sun finally goes down.

Maybe the ripe fruit is not of the vine, but life itself…