sequoia

falling leaves in the wind

 

a fox scurries past

 

shooting stars up above

 

into the thicket

 

to where the rabbit led

 

 

a foot on a tree no earth below

 

the cover of night

 

 

crows at sun rise

 

fog lifts on the horizon

 

startled to wake up

 

 

a lookout on the mountain

 

 

to find a fertile valley below

 

the touch of the dew in the tall blade grass

 

feet soaked in the mud

 

a running of the bulls

 

hour glass in a meadow

 

 

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