The August Nights

 The smell of fresh-cut grass covered in dew, 

Lined with thick and thin tires leading down,

To the river flowing with its cool water,

with the hot summer sun beating down,

Reflecting into our eyes as it starts to set,

Bells ringing as poles bounce, 

the lines going taught from the fish on its end,

The boys tripping over themselves and their chairs,

Them fighting over who gets to go grab it,

I love the smell of the cedar and oak burning in the fire,

The crack of the cedar  as the sap burns,

The little accidents that you can laugh at,

The long car drive,

The friends that makes this all,

The love of a doggo, 

The love for them and from them.

Her wonderful cooking 

Their smiles,