summer is not through with us yet
foolishly leaving the shades up
the unforgiving sun
burning our diaries through the windows
day after day
lulled into a trance
by sunrises that promise
a mid-September calling-back
of revelers with their
picnic baskets, and
coolers of inspiration
every brush of fingers
over imaginations. Saddle up
there is not a cloud
in the sky

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