Early Summer,
And warm winds comb the golden land.
Crêpe myrtles giddily strew colored confetti across the lawn.
Even the olive trees dance, green and silver.
Cypresses sway, all in a line, fingering scales.
All is fluid (πάντα ῥεῖ.)
Only the still, blue sky, cloudless,
Denies this harbinger of hot dry days...
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