Summer

Summer means a blazing sun

Sweat trickling down my neck

It’s the sounds of birds and insects calling without end

Summer means walks to the park and hikes through the canyons

It’s laying against the trunk of the sycamore trees

The shaded patterns of leaves speckling the grass

Summer means hot, dry breezes

Fans on at full blast

Sweaty nights with the covers thrown off

And the windows thrown open

As if to tempt the winds inside

Summer is the crash of fireworks

And a time of longing

It’s a time of bare skin, tantalizing thoughts, and everyΒ what if

Summer means bright skies, too blinding to look at

And the prospect of a new day

~Quill

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