My neighborhood

I like to walk through my neighborhood on any day of the week, whether the sun beats down on my neck or the clouds cover the day, whether the grass is bright green or withered brown. On this particular day, I can smell the scent of summer slowly sneaking her way into the air, as the warm wind gently brushes through the grass that tickles my ankles. I watch flowers at rest in quiet beauty, and I stare longingly at the swimming pool, not yet open for the season; the birds nibble at seeds on the ground and children noisily pedal their tricycles across rough concrete. I rather like this neighborhood, and though I cannot predict what tomorrow holds, I hope to stay here, at least for a little while more.