Perfect Summer

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It’s been half an hour
since the last building I’ve passed.
I’m in Bethel, where there is nothing.
a Laundromat
a gas station
a liquor store
237 country folk
and me.

I feel a since of calm,
and a rush of joy
from the memories of 17 summers.
Here, my problems vanish,
at least for a moment.

The gentle wind tickles the trees
and I listen to the harmony of birds.
The grass is sprinkled with bright yellow flowers,
and the water of the lake shimmers.

I stand still and take a breath.
The air here is different,
better, more peaceful.
It tastes like perfect summer.

I belong here.
I’m home.





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