Sometimes, there is a softness to sunlight. A pale glow on verdant cherry leaves. A warmth instead of a sear. A swath of cotton instead of a scouring pad.
Sometimes, there is a harshness to sunlight. A blinding radiance on worn white siding. A scortch instead of warmth. A drowning in hot coals instead of a fall into cottonballs.
Who can tell when which of these times will come?
mid-August
with a supermoon
arriving
how much longer until
the first whisps of Autumn?
Lillian hosts Open Link Night over at dVerse today.
The pub is open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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