Render these dreams ripe

with your whispers

and wish this to its fruition.

Though season’s too soon to harvest

irrigate with utter joy

and shine diamond smiles

casting hues of you spectral

across misty mornings.

Allow this root’s furrow

through pots of gold at arch’s end

and in fields of azure let attention

lose itself enraptured

as breezes roll rippling

over amber waves

gathering momentum

for the coming rain

when drought no longer delays

the turning of petals skyward

in madescent anticipation

of the inevitable torrent.


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