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As clouds drift toward us
and the last of the rain glistens
on the grass, I start to wonder
if we can we stay together.
Blue house, orange cat, rich
in lazy afternoons, we loll
barefoot on the back porch.
The wine going down
tastes like gold in our throats.
It's so easy here, the wind
bending the summer screens,
trees almost asleep
in their thick coats.
How long can it last,
or will we take it all
the way, luck out here
among the rose bushes,
the darkening ferns.