A mild and gentle Satyr`s day. Our house arose sleepily to greet the flaxen-gold Summer morn.
Israel first, in dimple-cheeked creeping across the squeaky beams. I watched him cross the floor and descend the stairs, in my mind`s eye.
Desirous to remain asleep and enfolded in my love`s warm embrace, I kept my eyes shut `gainst the encroaching morning light and my chest pressed into my beloved`s back for warmth in the chill of late Summer`s Dawn.
So ardently too did I cling the slow languorous ease of the morning`s fading into Noontide. The morning was quiet in the soothing harmonies of the cicadas and crickets, trilling in reedy songs that gently pushed through the white linen curtains.
Every so often, a child`s voice would ring out… a laugh, a cry, a giggle, or a plaintive bellow from the wee lass.
Breakfast`s apples and bacon became Luncheon`s oranges and bread. The day moved without haste or ambition.
Rest was needed, quiet was needed, and each were found in abundance.
I stretched out against the lawn, with Argos curled against my feet and, occasionally, leaning over to give one of my toes a curious lap of tongue. With my head buried in the vernal pillow of tall grass, I felt my consciousness sink into a light nap… until, it seemed that the air turned cooler, and the sounds of the air grew quiet.
Opening my eyes, I noticed that the light had dimmed and the azure sky of Summer was graying with increasing clouds. A sudden low tremble of distant thunder told me that it was wise of my beloved to postpone our morning outing to the nearby beach.
As I stand upon my feet, a vicious gale screams out from Eastern sky. I smell the water in the air, and I feel the warm/cool convection in the air.
Walking into the house, the clouds erupt in great torrents of wind and rain.
The storm is here.