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Aug 2015
First light, and
a chill mist.
Low bird calls.
Small and quiet,
the eldest child
zips her way
out of the tent.

Gathering
wildflowers,
she sips a bit
of mountain
water.
Reaching
up, she  
offers
her flowers
into the
crook of
a plain tree,
bowing down.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Elisa Maria Argiro
Written by
Elisa Maria Argiro
1.6k
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