Аннотация: to the sweet memory of the poet and artist Jimmy Pitts...
This summer didn't have a name.
It was composed of curly clouds
And lack of rain-a common game
Without scores, rules and routes.
How many pictures of the sky
Has one to take and what's the reason?
He was just learning how to fly
With clouds in the hottest season...
No need to build a flame of fame-
This summer got a poet's name...
August 2010.