The air is clotted with dust. We think about breathing. Today's sun bleeds light. We taste last night's sky: bitter, sudden. It will stay with us; we will paint pictures for our grandchildren with inadequate words. But for now, we watch the new day creeping in. We just keep breathing.
Sunday, 19 June 2022
'Sunrise' by Marie Little
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Every word meant something there. Terrific.
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