Day 19: The cicadas' thrum lulls me into afternoon.
Day 20: Lawnmowers whine, incessant bee-buzz of summer shearing.
Day 21: An ice cream truck circles several streets over, a lonely calliope of sound.
Day 22: Ocean waves crash on wet sand, a dull roar; louder still, the boom of thunder.
Day 23: The thwup-thwup of thousands of tires traveling homeward over the bay Bridge.
Day 24: Pop! Fizz! Soda bubbles tickle my nose, rock my mouth with commotion.
Day 25: Quiet fills Sunday morning streets, everybody everywhere but here.
Oh, that is exactly what summer sounds like to me. So poetic, so lovely and so true.
ReplyDeleteI was away, and short of time throughout these postings of yours - good to have the chance to revisit.
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