The tiny tot teases a wave her taunting toes tip-toeing in to chase the ebb then turning with timid, toddler terror to dash away from the onrushing tide
Eventually a big crest spanks her smacking her plump bottom down with a shove to shore where she sits for a second considering her adversary then she waddles with a bit of an impish grin back to tango with the surf again daring the giant curls of the Atlantic to comb her out!
2. Summer's debut!!
Summer gracefully strolls in, under canopies of soft blue, in her long, elegant, emerald gown, spattered with dandy yellow sequins.
Her hair is a tangled bird’s nest, woven of the finest golden rays of sunshine, and bound by an endless profusion of forget-me-nots.
She dances with tiny tots in attendance who whirl around on her moss skirts, in bare footsies and smiles.
She stretches her arms out, in a long and lazy twirl; till all are spun into, and caught up in, the waltz of her passing.
Her sweet perfumes waft over the carbon dioxide cities, and birds set the sweet melodies to which she performs daily.
Occasionally a dark and stormy northerner will sweep her off her feet, and whisk her across gray skies in a rumba or two, With a thunderous look then just as quickly, coldly vanish leaving puddles of tears behind.
This blend of opposites attracts the urchins, who mark each tiny pond as a place to sail paper boats, and splash like a flying fish in.
I am in love with summer she fills me with a passion not felt in any other season and I will be wed to her until she leaves me with a sudden fall, and a wintry disposition.
She does not belong to any one person but to all of us, yet still a man can dream, with a bit of tall grass between his teeth and a straw hat casting wicker shadows on his face as he rest beneath a maple that bleeds sap not nearly as sweet as Summer's fond embrace.
Spinning yesterdays into songs.
Come climb with me now on a carousel that carries each to journeys far away
Even old men ride it becoming young lads again high in the saddle, chasing the winds of time from their parchment faces.
The music lilts stretching innocent grins where once sad visages bent.
Grandmas envision poodle skirts as they whirl, once again just a girl, gray hair, now sun blond and flying like a ponytail behind them.
Here all that remains is young once more for a brief ride around the merry Calliope that hums the notes of yesteryears.
Tiny toddlers clueless only gape in awe and marvel at the horses that turn old into youth and the youngest into giggles of joy whistling by rapidly in Anypark U.S.A.
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