In the summertime sounds
a crickets’ bicker chorus,
Canadian geese sass nightfall.
Often a tweet tossed from an oak.
Bullfrogs holler from swimming
hole amid Koi splashing.
Bevies of birds trill
to announce dusk’s
passing.
People slam car
doors beyond a
rustic, wood fence,
no doubt unconcerned
to air-conditioners’ hum.
A hound, far off, howls
as other dogs unite
in canine cacophony.
This Amish swing’s sway
is slight, yet even with that,
shiny silver chains clink.
Blunted a-thump
the Rubbermaid’s lid
augments neighborly lemonade offering.
Out front a baby’s cry
ebbs into the air,
then four-wheelers
screech and roar
slashing tranquil pause.
Radios blare as vehicles
speed away. Above, a
Piper Cub flies south,
whirring the gray-blue sky
like an old drill.
An orange tabby slinks by,
offers a purr, then meows.
In the quickening dark,
I seize my baseball cap
to wave at a swoosh
above my head I fear
may be a bat.
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