The sun's evening ember lies low,
warms with orange the purple branching silhouettes.
Wind's humid breath
whispers to blades of timothy and alfalfa,
stirs the dense taste of summer
into the last crisp tang of spring.
The fallen rain warms to a sweet mist
which lingers in hollows below fallow hills.
Mist slinks across new paved roads,
presses the windows of homes where nothing once stood.
Into itself coiling, mist thickens to fog,
and dims headlights feeling their way back home.
Upward the fog rises begrudgingly
to lurk in the deep blue sky.
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