We’re not in a hurry—a radiant flurryof photons is peltingour retinas, meltingthe ice in our glasses.The afternoon passeswith nothing but resting.The sunlight’s suggestinga nap—as we’re dozing,the heat is proposinga dip. We go swimming—our bodies are brimmingwith goodness. But afteran hour of laughterwe hear a deep rumble—we hop out and stumbleto dry off and load up.A sudden storm showed up.It’s kind of a bummer—it happens each summer…
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