Ode to July

Morning shadows shorten, the sun rises high,
Temperatures are climbing, we are in mid-July.
The air is still, without a breeze,
Evidenced by the silenced trees.
A rabbit lolls, subdued by the heat.
The once-green meadow accepts defeat.
At times oppressive, though it won’t last,
I’m savoring summer, it goes too fast.
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