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Canicule


Canicule

Don't miss the fresh figs

Or maybe it's the sunrise for you

The sunset

Or the last blooming sunflower

Perhaps the moon's glow

Or the deepest dark night spiked with stars

The rainstorm

Wooing you to much-needed rest

Don't miss the clover

Or the papered leaves of cornstalk fields

The birch tree

The arbor dressed with lively vine

Perhaps the garden

Or the creatures who trespass its wire

The vast weeds

Creeping in, always creeping in

Don't miss the forest

Or the wisdom that lives in stillness

Wildflowers

Moss thriving in the shaded voids

Perhaps the turtles

Or the thunderous chatter of tree frogs

Fireflies

Did you catch their light within you?

Don't miss the songbirds

Or the display of a tie-dyed sky

A slow walk

With a melting sugar cone feast

Perhaps the cloud flow

Or a bed of luscious grass to lie

Butterflies

The cicadas' chimed invasion

Don't miss the glory

Or be weakened by the culture's sting

Summertide

Exhales gently...gently...gently

Ah, watch with me now

Fading calmly, softly, quietly

There she is

Gone

Until,

Marie

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