a teasing tune
where the world’s cacophonic
offers road sign to insanity;
but the getting to your here
from mine
is about feet and sole
the necessary footfall
on pebble and dust
and the obliteration of signage
and the happy insanity
of all impossibles
that converge on rain marked days
to offer you in every face,
every pebble and desert dune,
in moondrop and intoxication,
the orchestra of birds
playing to morning dew.
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