I finding myself spinning off into dreamy contemplation as of late.
It's the season, I know. Hot and humid, my hair in ringlets every morning after sleeping in the steam bath of my room, I wake from restless dreams of dancing.
The cicadas thrumm in the yard, unseen but omniscient.
I get sleepy by mid afternoon, only to find myself wide awake at midnight when the air cools down and I rediscover music that makes me cry.
The earth is hot, the grass is dry. I smell the indolent eroticism of river.
"Plunge yourself in me", it whispers.
I resist, I refrain, I remain steadfast in my boycott.
If I submerge myself, I may never come back.