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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