ant5

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August

petrichor

with a tang

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after the heat

rain is mist

moving downward

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we find

blood and bits

of wire

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the time

of night

we hear horses

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corner of the valley

the real dark

is here

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early apples

translucent

on one side

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in the drawer

of photos

old dice

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islands of grass

still green in August

around the trees

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they’re taking

forever

crickets

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heat wave

the dog sniffs

jasmine through the door

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