Laden with pollen, the wind does blow
Slowing a walk from quickened pace.
Sunshine always coming and berating the face.
Walking on curbs where the weeds do grow,
Bag on the back without socks on feet,
Gives one a chance to surroundings meet.
Summertime flowers and grasses flow
As streaming strong rivers in fields by roads,
And distant is heard all the locusts and toads.
Ants that do carry tremendous loads below,
Birds that compete showing who's song is best
They all do know with what gifts they're blessed.
Flower in hand with one's feet in a snow
Of Cottonwood flakes that have drifted on grass.
Footprints now left where there's a wearing pass.
Workers in cars do not see the show
Busily going, forgetting to slow,
And never will Summer's dear Wind come to know.
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