Skies bright and tides low, with winds of change still brisk and merry; each day deceivingly takes a leap toward stretching a season of perfection-- dry and warm, but not too warm, yet not a day to portend what elders know will follow. The bottom will drop out swiftly and with no remorse, a free Fall toward nights of frost and chill then plummetting with abandon when Winter settles in full.
These are days to chase age away along a gleaming strand of sand, remembering when brothers of yore tore through the neighborhood on banana seats with tires whirring, each spoke plucked discordantly by bubble gum baseball cards graced by Yaz.
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