that gentle, disarming spring
wind
draws the smell of dew
from the ground
refracts memories, injecting
a tonal softness felt in every
drop of rain
now tepid, almost harmless,
the soil remembers
the shape of your feet, the
stride between each step,
the cadence of your gait,
it's just by luck that this
loamy planet with its
empty plains should
receive you
and the wonder you
inspire into its star-ridden
skies
for there is your true audience
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