Something told me this little chickadee was not where she wanted to be.
As I caught her dreaming of other places.
Magical, beautiful, sweet, other places.
She proved it to me. She beg and pleaded with all her sweetness.
She took matters into her own hands.
It was time.
So outside we went, to flirt with fall, and have a final fling with summer.
We ran barefoot through the fresh-cut grass.
We ate strawberry popsicles.
And watched the planes overhead.
Saying hello plane and bye-bye plane as they left their fat, swirly trails against the blue sky.