On the first morning of autumn, September’s long-forgotten-and-seldom-seen sister dropped in from beyond the buttes.
Unreliable rain interrupted an eight o’clock swim. She had ghosted us all summer. Promised her return. Teased us with phantom forecasts.
She stayed for ten minutes. Long enough to soothe freckled shoulders, heal parched souls, and cast a creosote cocktail over the palms.
Her intoxicating personality was the change we needed to silence the sameness. To swim and dance again under the clouds of our desert dreams.