This summer is older than last summer.
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This summer has white in its hair
and a beard gone dry and wiry.
Spring was younger than ever.
Falling all over herself to make mistakes.
Barefoot on wet pavement.
Asleep on the front porch.
Inventing drama with her roommates.
We don't know yet about fall.
And we never speak of winter.
I blog irregularly at TinkerX. I'm also on Twitter. @andyhavens, go figure.