Red robins sing their tune into the haze of the
June afternoon,
making way for cool August nights,
sweet like zinfandel grapes-
notes of jazz swirl heavily in shades of blue
and dance into the mystery of the stars…
stars so bright, sparkling on a crescent lake
in autumn,
their light muted by the ripples of steady laughter-
seven songs played in the blink of an eye…
where does time go?*


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