177. POUGHKEEPSIE SUMMER

177. 


POUGHKEEPSIE SUMMER

Inky pockets of night collect

beneath crabapple trees where

gauzy spider webs brush my cheek,

lightning bugs appear one by one,

by threes and sevens, then hundreds

flitting gracefully, inhaling the

sweet elixir of darkness, spangling

the yard with tiny flashes of fire.


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