Honeysuckle Evenings


You came up on me like a five o’ clock shadow–
Barely there, but attention-grabbing,
A touch of wetness and a blink of Spring,
A sniff of sadness and some other thing–
Melting ice and powdered sugar,
A half-lit porch with a creaky swing;
“Summer’s here,” you keep whispering.
I’m listening, always listening;
I cannot tame this barbarian.

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Because Russ L asked

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