Southern wind built stronger then. Both attuned to the change in feel. Stronger song of the chimes in blow, heave bursts on the wall; greater of heat, heavier of humid—drawn somewhere from the drying world; change of the trees from whisper-hush into more vociferous of voice, their lean and bend in bow of the blow; loose leaves blow through open of door’s frame, skipping scratch of their sound before silence in rug’s reach, settling to rest in dead-spot shelter of the room like fish in hold of river’s current—flow’s break and pool in behind of stone.
Hands and arms in brace to floor high-sitting on cross-legged posed, Anna smiled—alive and attuned—to the changing of the wind; every sense a new excitement of read and anticipation of to come.
Rather than storm, sky was greater blue—every cloud blown and dispersed away. Heavier of heat, weight of the humid, she rid herself of cover—more comfortable in her free. Change in air, change of room—aware and well attuned—she waited, warmth-fluttering, knowing he would follow soon.