July, the 3rd
Smell the summer’s steamy grassy scent
strong with black powder
and mixed with a child’s anticipation
and you are ready
for the halfway point approaches
The summer passes
marked by the open sky
lit upon a thousand ways.
One night’s excitement
a certain gentle sadness
A day comes up
which graces the summers
of both youth and aged
Like the years its passes unbidden
and takes its place among our memories
EB, 1984
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