The change in the weather.
It wasn't huge or anything.
No tremendous shift.
But 100 degree days gone.
Cool mornings in the 50s here.
And the smell is there.
You know that smell.
Fall, just around the corner.
And the roses, even though it's still dry,
Are beginning to bloom again.
And the monarchs flutter lazily.
Or rest near roses, watching time pass them by.
The milkweed where their eggs would have been laid
Have gone to seed, been mowed down,
The drought having put an end to much that wished to live
But could not, not without the rain.