Dry Season
A mist the dunes and parched clay
frolicking downwind,
like dust fairies flittering about.
The reflection of my humble youth
gleams most prominently.
The sun freckled lizards,
dart to and fro in the heat.
For this reason of being,
is simply to be.
The season beckons to be dealt fair,
and true in the maze of summer.
In this mid-life arena,
I gladly embrace my dry season
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