was the smell of humid earth
shocked into action
by a rare high desert rain last night
was the sound of bits of songs
was the sound of bits of songs
you murmured like a mantra
interrupted by the words
for the animals along the way
was the sight of your hand reaching out
was the sight of your hand reaching out
from under the shaded canopy
every time we walked next a juniper bush
or patch of feather reed grasses
to let them wave and flutter through your fingers
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