The mother and child in the back
Shed their raincoats, made a picnic,
And read library books out loud
To drown the sound of the thunder.
Lightning was easy to ignore
Once they got into each story.
Beside them, an old magazine
Featured a pretty green cover
That was a painting of a child
On a swing under a big tree
Filled with white blossoms, titled
Endless Summer. Oh what a day,
What a day when summer remained
Without getting any hotter
Or shorter, when the lightning played,
Sang the mother, making it up
As she went along, waiting out
The storm. It circled their circle,
Further, further, calmer, closer.
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