Summer Brine

There’s salt in the air,
And butter;

The tangy brine of summer
Hangs heavy all around.

I can almost taste the sweet fresh corn,
Can almost feel the watermelon juice
Dripping down my chin.
The snap of fresh green beans
Rings loud across the yard,
An echo of summers gone,
Or maybe of summers yet to come.

There’s salt in the air,
And butter,

The tangy brine of summer,
And I am filled with joy.

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