843. Untitled - June 01, 2013
In the wee hours before dawn,
the breeze lifts just enough
to flutter against the heat
and carry away the sticky feeling.
The fluttering of the curtains
against the windows
is the only sound
that remains.
Everything is silent
as the world takes a breath
and the dense night gives way
to the grey and then the colours
and sounds of early morning.
Even the incessant chirping
of birds fades into the background
as the heat creeps back in,
heavy against everything,
slowing down sensation
until everything stands still.