Antizyklone

Weiße Felder ruh’n im milden Mondlicht
Lyra, Cygnus und Aquila hoch an blauer Sphäre
Apheliotes fächelt den Duft reifenden Weizens
Heupferdchens Streichertremolo klingt unermüdlich
Das ist des Sommers Höhe.

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