Evening in the Summer - First Draft Poetry


I do not jump.
Beside me, little feet do.
There is a gentle up and down to the movement they create,
a shush, shush,
a press against my back.

Above me,
in the bright blue sky,
seeds, surrounded with fuzz,
float through the sky.
Left to right.
Left to right.

I watch the seeds,
their gauzy travels riveting,
and all is still.
Bounce, bounce.
Shush, shush.
And all that floating.


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