The Fading Summer

The house is quiet but not lonely. Yet. 
Nothing to do is what I wanted.
It feels peaceful.
It's raining, and I'm sitting on the porch sipping my cup of black coffee–grateful for the excuse of the rain to not feel compelled to be outdoors pruning the tops of the daisies that have started to fade. 
They're drooping from too much rain. 
Petals fall off of some; on others, 
there is nothing left but the faded yellow center.

Later, after the coffee is gone and the rain clouds pass, the house will still be quiet. I'll remember last week when kids were in and out, and the puppy peed on the floor and doors were slamming, not out of anger but because it's the only way they close when the wood swells, and I wondered when would be the next time I could sit with nothing to do.  As if nothing to do is what I wanted.