A plane overhead
crossing a country.
With streaming circles of
clouds dancing in anticipation.
Waiting for a clear
route to an exodus.
Along the river bank,
the last of the summer blooms.
Yellow, silver and pearl
all clapping as one.
Then drifting back into
an age-old silence.
Above the rim of dense trees
a glimpse of the stars still to come.
So, I give my mind
to rapture and despair.
To the true nature of
a kindred world.
And walk on…….

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