Far-up the mountain
cliffs among white lines
of rain- a single thought
occurred and I placed
it in my pocket.
Further down, where
life becomes a gorge
between the hills, brush
overcomes the thighs,
covets the migrant;
clings seedlings
to cotton cloth-
another reminder.Green-grey is my theme
today and gasping purple
wildflowers too tiny
to understand nature's
disconcern
with land-bound
existence.
Consider the sky-
smug, pensiveand splittingwith decisions. 
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