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Valley of Gold

I've ceased my habit of cigarette smoking;

I can smell sun rays melting the tar within streets we've been driving on.

Accumulating debris line the sides of city streets,

Leftovers from a thunderstorm's retreat.

 

Valleys and mountains seem to have undried green

Patches and dry rivers run temporarily exhilarated;

A swelling rush through landlocked zone,

Becoming such a secretive and succulent oasis.

 

A Summer season like this symbolically:

Within harsh desolate heat,

Air is voraciously evaporating liquids of life,

Creatures adapted for unpredictability;

Schemes for overcoming, constantly changing.

 

Somewhat repeatable patterns of Summer downpour seems like a blessing.

A rather rash and quick burst, calling to attention

A reminder that it will soon pass.

Advising to allow any present moment to fully consume your consciousness;

Savoring every solitary drop.

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Written by
christopher-blanck
American
Published
Nov 13, 2012
Lines·Words
18·129
Permission

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