Currents

Softly, waves lap the snow-white sand; in the summer heat, the dampened bank reminisces of lost winters. Winters from the whispers of the wind, for eternal summer knows no winter, no feathery snow, no frost nor biting wind. Though it does know the kiss of dappled sunlight, the ever-changing blue of rippling currents, the subtle difference between summer mornings and summer nights. And the way people love one another beneath the yoke of the fading sun. And perhaps, it knows enough to linger in the thought of winter for only a moment, before returning to the August sky.

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