A plastic hanger is stuck in a pine tree,
while birds peck at a bird seed sack.
The smell of lilacs hit my nose,
as I pass a bushel in full bloom.
Electricity sizzles on the end of my fingertips,
as the air begins to swivel and swish.
Dampness is afoot.
Followed by incessant humidity.
Spring is dying.
Summer is ready to play.
Where did Fall go?
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