Fleeting Memory

sunseta
Clouds rolled in this evening with a little rain and more lightning… and after it left, I decided it was going to be a spectacular sunset.
I sat there on the rough wood of the aged picnic table.  Mosquitoes buzzed and landed on my bare arms.  The air was still, heavy with the sweetness of the windrowed hay.  Dogs crowded around my feet vying for any attention I might throw their way.  Clouds curled and scudded, floated and whispered.  Layer upon layer of blues and purples swirled over my head.
A slap there… a brushoff the next minute.  The mosquitoes were winning.  A slight breeze appeared… just enough to lift my hair and dry the nape of my neck.  Leaves rustled and quivered.  Some fleeting memory came, brought a smile to my lips, and left.  The oppressive heat of the day was fainting slowly into the darkness and then it came.  The sun, in its glorious last minute, gave me the gift of pink and orange.
I stood, stretched and sighed, and headed for the house, dogs in tow.

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