The spring’s traces last,
Hot summers approaching fast,
Languid notes in the air,
A solitary bird’s forlorn chirping
for its musical share,
Drowned in stillness
this late morning bright and fair,
The sky’s dull blue,
Spread with some mystical clue,
But a smaller world is there,
The overall unease cannot reach where,--
In its self-defined world
in a corner tiny,
The luscious wild flower
still stands brave and shiny.
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