the smell of warm dirt
black boogers
rocks rolling beneath rubber soles
that summer Sunday
was like any other day
except the water on the lake was still far past breakfast
and the birds were quiet and the dew never came
but the sun was strong, not a cloud in the sky could compete
with the rays beating down, darkening skin, lighting up camp
a steady solar lamp
it's that still, cool, quiet peace that
says Today will be a hot, hot day.
and with a deep breath, a Namaste, and a long look at the early Earth
it begins.
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