It's hot on the screen-in patio.
The cicadas ignore the heat, continuing their quasi-melodic droning.
I sit, sweating.
The heat is the South's curse. My curse.
A book lies on the table before me. Its cover reads, A Year in Lapland.
Vicarious living brings relief.
The knowledge of cooler places gives hope.
The breeze teases as I read, lasting just long enough to disappoint.
Rain on the weather radar remains absent, but the weekend shows promise.
A catbird calls from the woods, cicadas singing backup now.
Night will be cooler--barely.
If I place my book under my pillow, maybe I'll dream of reindeer, goattiehs, snow.
About the Creator
Emily Wallace
Mother, writer, musician and textile artisan from Alabama
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