Today is for Dreaming

September 14, 2020

The late summer cicadas sing from the tops of trees as I soak up one of the last warm days of the season. The wind smells like autumn but feels like summer. Days are noticeably shorter now, and the crickets begin to sing by mid afternoon. A soft breeze tugs at the hair in my braids, threatening to pull them loose. My cold brew is starting to go stale as I let it bake in the sun next to me, so I gulp it down and savor the last sip on my tongue for as long as I can. I throw my head back to look at the clear blue sky and take a deep breath. Yesterday all of the house chores were done; today is for dreaming.