Sound the bugle for Master Sun.
Arise ye grasses 'til day is done.
Sleep is over. ’Tis time to toil.
Spread thy wings 'til the twilight oil.
Fly across the sky with eyes affixed
Atop the sleepy hills and forest mixed.
Summertime awaits thy warming trend
From morning’s reveille 'til Summer’s end.

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Renata Martin

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