Indian Summer
J
Juan Olivarez
0
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The brash humidity is gone,
The frost giant's children,
Came to visit in the night.
One day hot, and humid,
The next, plants wither all around,
Turning to brown and dying.
And now, fair cumulus clouds,
Float in the sky.
Pictures of presidents, and Indian chiefs.
A topaz blue peeks through,
The breaks in the clouds,
My blue heaven
Summer seems to have returned,
In the middle of November.
Indian Summer.
8/16/11 Alton Texas
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