That coolish' feeling that wakes you up just before dawn, eyes closed, as you pull the blankets just a little closer; snuggling down a bit deeper. The birds busily cawing and chirping just outside the still-open windows. Smoke rising over houses in villages and surburbs from first seasonal tries at firing up the fireplace. Smoking like Weber barbecues on a new tank of gas.
Nah - on second thought, drop that last metaphoric image - far too midwestern.
Smoking like "Mangal" barbecues in Sacher Park on Independence Day, as burly (ok, fat-bellied) Moroccan fathers madly wave cardboard fans to start the coals in flimsy tin contraptions passing as portable barbecues.
Trees shaking free of their foliage, like they got an itch they can't scratch because they're, well, trees, so what are they going to rub their backs against? People? Each other like Baloo the Bear from "The Jungle Book?" Ahh. Jerusalem autumn in the air.
Damn, ya' missed it...
"Here comes that rain again..."