She orchestrates the jaunting chorus of ice-cream trucks and children’s laughter mingled with the ocean’s sighs. She grabs my hand and slows my pace to a languid stroll.
I inhale the fragrance of pine needles blanketing concrete. The loud buzzing of Cicada is welcome white noise.
Summer works deftly overhead mixing humidity and sunshine with generous heaps of azure. Sprinkling in some electric zigzags and swarthy scowls. The forecast: smiling sun with a chance of growling gray.
© Pamela A. Rossow