When I left to take a walk Saturday,
the air was hot and muggy,
relieved by the gift of a breeze.
As the afternoon went on, the promise
of rain plied its way among the trees
at the IMS RV lot on Georgetown Road.
I could hear the trees as they danced,
their leaves sounding like the rustle of taffeta
ball gowns moving to the sensuous twirls and dips
of the breeze's three-quarter time.
A bit of the breeze touched my cheek,
inviting me to join the dance.
And there, I could be seen, a middle-aged woman
walking alone among a few acres worth of trees.
With my baseball hat pulled low on my brow,
I looked up at the trees where, circling in place,
partnered by my unseen Muse, my laughter made
a counter melody to the summer air.