The increasing height of the sun in April and May are joyous to me. As its daily path rises, I rise too. All seems fine until August 1st, when the sun is suddenly lower, a measure I noticed first with its inability to clear certain trees, but I notice now from the shadows, the way they gather, and sometimes lunge. These shadows, though warm inside, belong more to winter than to summer. These shadows are the very definition of dread.
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