In late summer’s light

smoke billows black

over the grill, a gray smudge

across twilight sky; the telltale

smell of summer.

The lawn blanketed a dry, dusty

brown; pale pink cone flowers, tired damsels drooping.  Sweat beading

down your back as you sit on the patio

sipping wine, listening to the neighbor

puttering on his old Buick

propped on cracked concrete, his back

golden,

shimmering in the summer sun.