More Dancers

They come to dance and flirt and tease and I am compelled to share their photos on this day. They skip and loop and flutter close past your forehead causing such a distraction that you unconsciously wipe your brow leaving a brown streak with the mud from your hand.  And just when you think you have been distracted  to the limit with their inability to form a serious parade, they twirl far away.

Summer's song is not too long

It is not too loud and 

Not so familiar

That you can sing along.

Your eyes begin to adjust

To the carnival lights

Your ears to the buzz of warm rhythms

And your nose to the smell of ripe honey.

And then Summer has waned

The days are smaller on each end

The earth no longer needs your care
And the butterflies laugh and all flirt away.  

My gift to you while I recuperate and miss being outdoors.