blowing on my neck, making my skin tingle with anticipation.
Four full years since I felt that familiar spark awaken within
as August draws to a close.
The arbors holding vines over my Eastern European neighborhood bow a bit lower,
the lime green leaves darken overhead,
still glinting in the lower decibels of sunlight
and still sparkling even in the now noticeably greyer skies.
Gone are the days of waves rising from the cement,
and water racing down the middle of the street
while our city homes' pipes run dry
and the heat presses down on our lives.
Watermelons dwindle at the produce stand,
replaced with early piles of grapes, figs and walnuts
that will all become abundant as autumn's whisper becomes a yell
and the pleasant chill is replaced with a dampness crawling ever deeper.