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Summer She Saw
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Summer She Saw

Summer she saw
and the swing was empty
She called to her mother
with nature's voice

Her tiny feet trod upon
fresh blades and crippled stems
as she lifted a yellow crown
adorned with honey bees
from the soil
upon her head

The weeping beech chattered
as crescent wings slowed and settled
and she merrily took to the shade beneath

The dogwood blooms
looked like fresh paint
Delicate and soft
on a dark canvas
of ancient tree bark and sapling oil
as the sun's rays crumbled
with a sallow hue
like threshed grain
trampled by a palomino
and brushed away by a straw broom

The faint breeze tickled her face
as the cool dust settled between her toes
and a dim blue shadow loomed beyond the treetops

It settled with night
and a shivering moon climbed the celestial turret
nakedly, till it became nestled in a cloudy tussock

She saw summer grow
and watched it fade
When summer gardens boiled
for the last time

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