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Mar 2020
How surreal it is,
lofted above the wrinkles in the landscape,
where clouds settle like a dropped cloth
on peaks and valleys,
to find distance.

Yet how surreal to be grounded!
To reach overhead and let morning dew
travel down your fingers,
to explore the splintered surface
of golden timber not yet weathered.
Written by
KB
102
   Bogdan Dragos
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