I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it is not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect orchestra is forever tuning their instruments forever waiting for the maestro to tap his baton and bring them to order. I, for one, hope the maestro never comes. I love the musical mess of it.
This is a sequel to Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
page 107 Love Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
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