Midday...

Midday in this heat you can't mistake it can't escape it Soft breeze whispers through the trees through the leaves Cicadas screech to make themselves heard above the birds above the world Moths fly by in the turn of an eye but a shadow of a butterfly The sky is pale, as if bleached like the sand of the beach The clouds are still, white paper cutouts of watery smoke.... hear me, calls the world... no matter what it be All is one, and part of everything

it's getting pretty hot here, and it's only September...?


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