Midsummer

Days like this seem like they will never end. Up late with an orange moon, up early with a red sun. And in between, seeking shade and the cool interior.

Listening to the insects, their chirps and crescendoes, their cascading calls to one another, all of it music, summer music, an aural expression of freedom and relaxation.

I want to capture midsummer, bottle it, preserve it.  And then, one bitter winter morning, take it out and spritz it on my wrists and behind my ears, wear it like perfume.