another_idyll_as_summer_ends birdmad The calendar says summer is over by a week...the sun is not quite ready to agree glaring down, like a combination of a fever and that feeling of being watched but even then the breeze shifts, cool across the back of my neck, sending down a slight chill, like the combined low-cycle buzz and cold metal of a barber's shears overlapping sounds: the rumble and blare of the freight trains a mile or so away the rattle of diesel engines and the rush of traffic, the faint, but still audible whisper of the afternoon breeze watching the hummingbird light on the little purple flowers flit flit flit the one other constant in this portion of universe which i occupy besides change is the smoke of my cigarette bouncing off of heaven like a prayer not sent with suficcient postage daydream. drift. 040927 what's it to you? who go blather from