A Hint
The dew is mist within the air.
I breathe the morning
Elevated over
The ruined city.
Music drifts invigorating
From places I can't locate,
Untethered spirits
Gracing the atmosphere
And filling ears and chests,
The strident strumming
Rushing sleepy pulses.
After that last night,
Nobody would have thought
We'd find a hint of honey
Strung throughout today's sunlight.
- 4/8/25
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