Halftime

A wind gust, heavily-laden with the sweet smell of honeysuckle,

Stirred the gray-black feathers of a robin perched

 on the iron railings of my balcony, chirping happily to its mate.

Another warm breeze that didn’t stir him or me while I sat

In my yard chair enjoying the lazy afternoon. I sipped on a cold

 Glass of chardonnay and stared mindless at the cloudless blue skies

And the tips of tall green trees, communing with nature spiritually,

all while listening to soft jazz.

 Yet another gust, this one roused me from my musing. 

It was the breeze of a sweet kiss at the nip of my neck

 That stirred deep emotions, making me smile.

 I knew then it was Halftime.

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