Burnt by the sun Summer’s long days pull like taffy From childhood eyes. Womb return to lemonade Steaming pavements, hoses, and wild cries. Tree Frogs burp, exciting the dark. Sounds of far off waves move in When we lie in light long after bedtime. Dreaming with eyes wide open–memories Caught in a firefly net of lingering dusk, Between what was and what was wished, Dreams come and gone And come again. Have we only to roll in the sweet grass, Lie still in an August night? Or did we dream the first time?
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