Sometime in the Summer
What more is there to worry about
When the weather's not winter
And windows are blushing in the evening,
And Granddad is out on the river in overalls
Awaiting the arrival of all good things?
Sometime in the summer the mailman
And the air will become very still.
No one will be swimming, and the waves will hover
Just at the edge of the dark stretch of sand.
You will flay the wicker chair with
And light candles when the thunder
Cottontails will creep in the field and call you
Into the forest of grass.
Slow and painful death lingers
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