Zephyrs

A few heavy downpours over the early August days break the heat but hold onto the humidity.  Yet, they provide enough to quench the thirst of the tulip trees which in late, hot, summer are dropping an abundance of yellow floating leaves that almost instantly turn to burnt brown on the sidewalks and grassy hillside.  Their scuttling crispness sometimes startles me when a breeze pushes them across the driveway like a large alien bug.  

There are ethereal beauties that catch my eye as well in the small drop in temperature.  Our swallowtails are in abundance this year.  They are selective in which nectar filled trumpets they visit.  They avoid my purple petunias on the deck and go again and again pressing their faces into the verbena blossoms that are just inches away.  They lift like a drunken feather, then sink again to the next blossom.

They look particularly beautiful when visiting the cosmos which are struggling this year against the few pounding rains after weeks of heat and drought.  When these beauties are satiated they float across the yard like zephyrs with tiny silk capes; slow, dipping even, and clearly in some mindless pleasure.  If I could see their faces, would they be smiling?