Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Summer takes the cloak from spring,
dries it, throws it over shoulder,
stills the morning birdsong clamour,
paints the trees in darkened hue,
breathes a heated midday pause,
sings with constant cricket voice,
lingers in the long and limpid evening,
bakes another fruitful harvest.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 06.20.23
Prompt: Personify summer in a poem.
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