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June 21

On the second day of summer,

sprinklers scattered spray

over hay standing tall, anxious for the first cut.

I planted my earth stained feet,

bathed myself in setting sun,

washing away my winter soul.

Fire

in the sky,

but I felt it,

inside.

Fading daylight danced in waves,

as night 

tucked day 

behind the mountain.

Sparkling sunbeams 

tangled in my hair

where they will stay

until September.



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