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Summer is a song, a most hearty serenade. Its music is written in blossom quavers, in busy honey bees. Then, for joy, of blessings-sake, comes the sweet carol of the birds. How I love them, this winged choir, chirping their dreams to listening ears: be they yours, be they mine, be they rabbit, mouse or shrew. And, should a light rain per-chance come by with its hither and thither watering, all the better, all the greener, all the gayer still! When August yawns into September, and September bows to Autumn-tide, these memories I’ll treasure as God’s own poetry.

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In this amniotic wind, in this hot summer season, our souls melt into the ether and return with fresh wisdom.

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The summer season radiates rainbow immortal hues, bathed in floral aroma, soaked in pure sun-rays.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, September 12, 2020.
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The summer season heightens every hue, bringing the watercolour spring to fresh a pop-art vibe.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, September 12, 2020.
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Spring may have danced with shyness from curtain edge to stage, yet the summer season comes as diva, as opera, as heaven's boldest smile.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, September 12, 2020.
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The summer season stretches her fire-sparked hand within, to cradle even the most icy heart and set heaven's eternal blaze within.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, September 12, 2020.