Three of them.
Young ones, for sure.
Papa Robin worn thin, too worn for singing.
Evening songs competing
When did that happen?
You know, Summer running up ahead,
glancing back. And that snotty grin?
Summer’s promise, the long days of june.
painted bright and new as spring.
Me? I’m whining and lamenting
where this weird old summer’s going.
photographs from july 25, 2020