Dog Days

On August afternoons, windows gape and fans yawn. The cats venture across the deserts of drab carpeting searching for a breeze, but my mother—outside with garden shears—hears music in the heat. Humming and the percussion of snapping lilac branches refresh her more than any succulent storm.

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I am a writer for an e-Learning course vendor near Chicago.

5 thoughts on “Dog Days”

  1. Sitting here in a warm robe, I suddenly wanted to shed the thick layer as I read this. I could feel that heat and see the cats. I imagined your mother with a wide brim straw hat playing gardener. Sounds pleasant and hot at the same time. Hehe

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