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Rated: · Poetry · Nature · #1669921
Eh, read the title, be intrigued, and find out.
I lay motionless --
black flies fall

in swarms
like soft rain on my face,

and dancing
in my ear

are the regular chorus of peepers
singing a monotonous tune

that calls me
from my bed in the grass

to follow the stars
over the hill

and over the wire fence,
to a reflective dance floor

where the moon and I shine,
still,

but ripple in time
with the music of summer

when I jump in.
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