that first weekend warmth of spring
we roll the windows down and ride awash in sun
the rollercoaster rise-and-fall of the lake road
the smell of eutrophic water and wildflowers
the hum of insects enriching the humid air
Vivaldi’s Spring near full volume washes over
and past the old cemetery
where the stones fallen or faded or hidden in leaves
make shadows on shallow depressions
gone soon in a blur as we descend
down into the noon lit valley
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