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comes on shore, from heated airs,
over a far away ocean, steals in
with quiet hands, no thunderous
clapping, gently lifts, shakes, the
woman’s long tresses,
making them an
even bigger tangled messes

the irises standing proud ‘n tall,
with their quiet applause, at the
unfolding playlet observing,
verdant spectacular every coloration,
the sky spinning clouds, the lapping
waves keeping rhythm, that everyone
hears differently, and all the discordant
cacophonous agitations blend harmoniously
and everybody smiles, everyone grins,
all knowing that the all~knowing just
sneezed
wrote this to remind myself that I
can still write a summer poem
even if it is November 2nd at
9:41 on a sunny, but chilling  morning

— The End —