Relative Something

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late at night
past the flickering city lights
the warmth of summer at the solstice
mixes gently
with the chill
that settles in the low spots
where crickets keep their beat
a time signature set by heat
or possibly the lack thereof
sleep swoops in slyly
crescent moon
hangs there dryly
where nothing ever happens
life is stuck in possibility
awaiting aimlessly
for the next wave coming
just in case
it eventually does

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