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Waving pines
in the lake
I am lost in the reflections.

A mosquito
bites my foot
and I pass from one dream to the next.
Rain hammers
and lightning paints the sky bright violet -
illuminating patterns in puddles.
Why wait?
a breath
a day of sunshine
and this life is gone.
Clouds become dragons
become clouds
become words.
Like snow outside my window
words fall to paper.
Beneath chattering palms
ocean waves talk quietly.
Quieter still, the crescent moon wanders the night.

— The End —