Summer kids here.

Dear Small Ones,

The thick of summer
is plush with play;
the dawning of a new cycle a distant foreshadow.

You think it will never come,
but it will.
School’s out…for now.

Play, play hard, children,
the summer will die soon.

Love,

Your Teachers.

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The summer has set
but never the dawn.

Some will speak
what is not egregiously dumb.

And the sun will rise
even when winter will come.