The Song Sings

 I think the poet William Carlos Williams would have fit very nicely into my little circle of friends, based on his penning of this small line of elegant wordage:

"In summer, the song sings itself."

We are elegant people after all,

and on Tuesday we dwelt in the beauty of a summer's eve, gathering spontaneously for a supper made of grilled turkey burgers and fruit salad.
The perfect summer evening supper, when accompanied by

comfortable conversation and a bit of summer ale.

It had been a long day, after all, what with the moving of all of Emily and Aden's belongings into a nearby storage unit in preparation for the sale of their house and the eventual buying of another.

We were tired.  We were glad for the ease of each other.  We were loving the simplicity of a spontaneous and summery supper.

So, as Amy and Aden relaxed,

Emily and I prepared the food.

Elegantly, of course:

What is it about a summer evening, a fruit salad, and an avocado that makes us just a little giddy?

I think it's really just the company,

singing its' song.