#33

A parchment sky
over sterile hills,
muddy rivers
across dry wheat fields,
a desert wind
tuning an old requiem.
Last night I dreamt in sepia.

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26 thoughts on “#33

  1. Really such a sharp set of phrases, even in sepia–especially love ‘a desert wind/
    tuning an old requiem…’ you make the reader feel it blowing dry on the face, sucking out every drop of moisture from the skin.

    Liked by 1 person

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