On Eve Of Solstice

On eve of solstice there is a heat in the air.  A more than warm breeze.  Recall poetry past
then write new words as they fall on the page in light and folds of the rose.  There in a
moments bless green surges to twilight waiting for rain with one hand in the earth and one
hand in the stars.  Wearing night like a crown she drapes my time around her.  As ever be well

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