I know a place
That serves the best sun-warm soup
You’ll ever taste.
A whispered wind blows to cool
Clear empyrean broth and swirl
The seasoned smells around.
And there’s no sign
“NOSHIRTNOSHOESNOSERVICE”
There. So settle back
In garden-garnished summer salad
And slurp delicious spoonfuls
Of dumpling clouds
From the big blue bowl
Of sky soup.
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