A short note

Knocking Water

on the water

webbed walls

calls the morning

to the sea.

Wooly clouds,

strung out on mist

and hung over from heaven’s.

unending

celebrations,

slide

under the Golden Gate

looking

to shape shift

for the Winter

And we sit around orange tulips

with our feet

in the cool grass

and talk about everything

D.A. Medina

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