Strawberry Moon
Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep
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The Last Long Breath of Night Air
I'm thinking of all the summer evenings that I had done this since I was a child. Just letting the breeze waft over me. We'd had a swing on the front porch and at least a few times a year I'd been allowed to drag my sleeping bag out. Though I rarely made it through the night before being chased in by mosquitoes or just wanting my own bed. The neighborhood was quiet. Most of the houses with just a single light on here were there.
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