Hot August Night

Into the cool evening
stars are falling,
plummeting from the sky
in great streaks of wonder,
hurling themselves
from the decks of flying clouds
like souls
diving into the newborn
eager for a taste
of color and sound,
of sweet fresh strawberries
and ripe green melons.
I lie on my back
in this old webbed lawn chair
stroking my fingers
through the soft wet grass
and watch the night sky
wondering at the urgency
of those bright streaks
tracing their passion
on a hot August night.


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