...saturday, in the park, blah blah blah rest of the lyrics...

Everything today is wet. There is a mist outside that makes all the plants want to give off their best shade of green before they begin to turn. Our neighborhood is dripping with huge trees, flowers, long grass, and vines overtaking whatever stands still for awhile.
No one seems to be awake today. I know other people are somewhere in town, because I saw them at the farmer's market not too long ago. 70th Terrace is quiet. Anyone with sense is still in bed, excited that quilts have needed to return.
This is when I listen...no need to talk except for the occassional exchange with a kitty. The cicadas died out with the hot weather, so now all of the other insects can be heard singing their pleas for mates. They mix in with the questioning purrs of Bones, the wood floors creaking under delicate cat paws and me shifting in my chair, the constant hum of the computer and click clicky of keys, fingers rubbing on a ceramic bowl, green tea juicily slurping into my mouth, and the distant sounds of what few cars seem to be out there this morning, but I have yet to see from my window.