grass high and dry and
seeded as wheat
tips too close for focus
belly on the blanket beside it
a bowl of blueberries,
almost gone
the rain pretends to come
but no one cares
not even the cat
written july 31 — lughnasadh — feast of the grain harvest
Garden of Words 
There’s something so compelling about this picture of dry late summer – k.
Thanks, K. What’s your favorite time of the year?
A perfect snapshot of the impending change of season. I can almost smell that threatening rain.
Why thanks, Victoria.
A fine marking of the passing of lughnasadh.