in spontaneous concert, quiet husks swaying in the breeze.
They whisper lyrics to each other
One blushed moptop leaning into the next.
The silky fibers mingle like the sweaty strands of longhaired boys
An almost silent song.
The brush of bodies sweeps me up and carries me along.
I am happy as sun and breeze breathe hot air on my neck
To match their rhythm
To join their windswept dance.