Belly-Dancing Class, 8:00 PM, Minneapolis
From their open windows, I hear
thirty sets of
singing in time, vibrating
the humid evening breeze.
Near my house (and across from the awesome ice cream shop) is a belly-dancing academy. On certain nights, you can hear the cymbals from down the street. As Aaron and I went out for ice cream, I remembered why I love my city so much.
This micropoem is part of A River of Stones International Small Stone Writing Month, hosted by Fiona and Kaspa. The goal of the project is for participants to create one small stone (a recorded moment of mindful observation) each day in July.
EDIT: With the proper word for belly-dancing cymbals, thanks to my friend Laurel.