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Poem: Siesta

For many days rain fell
in thirsty gulps. Following
a long absence, the sun
returned, weary from the long
rest, waiting for the good wine
of the atmosphere to justify
a few day’s exit. In the watercolor

of the morning, spindled with tapestry
of finite laughter, bees swim
toward open-mouthed petunias
against the grain of salt air.

Tired of wandering, spores
newly severed from the thin skeleton
of dandelions change direction
in the wind, float into
their favorite journey.
Thus the world invites
the view of a girl peppered
with freckles and cherry eyes.
After a long time
of wondering what price
the long neck of the wind
would offer, the slope of memory
finds itself begging for a turn at play.

Image Credits: Photo courtesy of Shutterstock

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