Poem: Perfect Day

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The air grows warmer
I catch sunlight
between my fingertips
The sound of bees
during the day
and the chirp of crickets
at night.
The wind blows cold
from east to west
and back again.
Not a cloud in the sky
a perfect pastel blue
with no storms to
be seen.
Those were halcyon days
when Nature woke up
and basked in
the lengthy hours
of a carefree afternoon.

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