Happy August- A poem

SunflowerMid summer

when the sunflowers begin to bend under the weight of their own abundance

reaching ever closer to the wide eyes of children

straining their necks

peering at these little suns.

The fireflies have grown less abundant,

their nightly dance in the tall grass faded and replaced by the buzz of cicadas.

The golden light from the setting sun is beginning to be replicated in the tips of the grass,

the brightness of the yellow zucchini,

and the petals of the still growing sunflowers.

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