The strums of yawn weave

to a lull,

A pair repeat a verse with a

switch between high and low.

To the beats, I see in

my mind’s eye;

A pair of deer bounding across

an evening field.

A field framed by a darkening

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

sapphire sky,

In which the June sun’s gaze

still has warmth.

But also the fifth dance in a

summer party,

Where the participants flow in sync with

notes and voices;

Rhythmic flows and beats:

This way first,

Then second that.

Perhaps it's time to take up

the offer and rejoin

the Dance.