On a Lilac, an Apple, and a Rose, a Passage -- by Alex Ranieri

The day, in all its belligerent heat, was slowly giving way to night—and I was drawn out from the library by the perfume of the lilies planted beneath its open window. As I stepped into the garden, a cool breeze wafted these and other scents towards me—lilac, and apple, and rose. The birds still sang, but their chatter was subdued. Only the cardinal cried, full-throated, in seeming mourning for the sun; and there was something mournful in the light’s reluctance to go. It clung to every tree, every flower, every flying bird, with the desperation of a man tossed about on horizonless waves, clinging for dear life to a raft.