Barefoot I walked under a rising Strawberry Moon in its distinctly golden glow, the cheery trill of crickets gave me a beat of silence as I passed by, a whisper of leaves in a warm and restless wind as distant cars rolled under the thumping heartbeat of a helicopter winking its way in Christmas colors across a dusky sky.
I hear the teeth of sheep pulling at the clover like Velcro coming apart in little tugs, and the flabby exhale of a horse as velvety rubber lips chatter. A star shimmers overhead as my feet gobble up the pavement, smooth and rough both, bare toes splat through puddles still warmed by the long day's sun. I hear the nasal Doppler whine of a motorcycle climbing through its gears and the soft clink of dinner plates through a bronzed kitchen window.
A wheezy drone of a scooter sighs like biddies gossiping over tea, and the first throbbing hum of an air conditioner provides a bass note to the halogen street light's high-pitched buzz. A distant dog barks; a girl laughs, a car stereo grunts by. The tisking sprinklers stop their scolding and lights wink out as the full moon rises and I turn my feet toward home.
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