summer shorts

sunrise is at six
temperature rises too
sleep becomes a dream
**
wind tickles the trees
their laughter cannot be held
leaves fall in mute mirth
**
butterfly flits by
drifting past branches with grace
smoke follows closely
**
end of hammock moved
tree limbs no longer block stars
clouds start rolling in
**
shirt smells of mesquite
from barbecue earlier
change requires effort

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