Rakin' Songs
I hear my sister calling me for dinner
As I'm raking up the clippings from the grass.
I turn my head
And am stuck by the gently setting sun
That glows red through the soft grey clouds.
A light breeze plays with my hair
As this warm summer evening crawls to a close.
I inhale.
"Coming!"
Copyright © Kai Bredwell | Year Posted 2024
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