cities of gold

what a crafty crow
who sings under
a turbulent sky of yesterday.
here droplets of rain
imprint the sand
and pottery shards litter
a landscape colored in hues
of purple and burnt sienna.
i turn towards the village
and hear humble praises
of thanks.
into this i see the inner workings
of creation;
and towards the four directions
we are subdued only by each other.
for it remains within and
unto the beyond.


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