Indian Summer


We opened the doors on the old Dodge van
parked under the big oak tree
the old farm house etched with memory
ropes hanging down and an old plank swing
She kicked her bare feet playfully in the dirt
and then soared to the sky
Looking out over Illinois corn fields
full in growth, glorious acres of green and gold
laden with the best crop in years
The pioneer cassette deck
laid back tunes,
CCR, The Band, Seger, Canned Heat, The Outlaws
Night Moves slowed the swing down
A blanket in tall grass, a cooler of ice cold beer
chilled to perfection
grass of different colors move the clouds
breezy wisps sailing gracefully across azure blue sky
It was beautiful, Indian Summer

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It is not by augmenting the capital of the country, but by rendering a greater part of that capital active and productive than would otherwise be so, that the most judicious operations of banking can increase the industry of the country.

— Adam Smith