Woodwinds pipe proudly,
like playful skipping stones,
while dancers flow like water,
and their feet take flight.
Food trucks circle the celebration,
and send out sizzling invitations,
but their cooking fires can’t compare
to the passion of the people there.
Even after the vendors have all departed,
the temperature keeps climbing higher,
the heat of the moment waxing full
with the evening moon.
As the festivities come to a head,
the energy crests like a breaking wave,
and the feverish bacchanals
greet the dawn with rosy cheeks.
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