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Contemplation 4

  • Writer: Roger Murphy
    Roger Murphy
  • Aug 24
  • 1 min read

Updated: Aug 27

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The air is filled with rain. Impossibly small droplets splash

Onto leaves with sharp edges. Too small to coalesce.

The air separates them. Each breath fills with fresh

moisture. Underfoot, the rough dust seeks moisture.

Cupules roll and rasp beneath the feet, try to fall apart,

rot and add to decomposition.

Smashed pericarps add a roughness to the ground.

It is hard, impedes movement.

 

A sharper, keener wind rasps the water and chills the skin.

The trees move and stir themselves shaking themselves awake.

Smaller shards of bark fall to ground.

 
 
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