A vine of words, green and waxed full

spring from his talking.


He stares at the sky, never tired of dark blue,

the unlimited wide space where he reaches

a hand toward it.


A subtle breeze from behind touches his hair,

lifting an edge,

disrupting order without his notice.


Cloud shadows form over him. Distant thunder

speaks in low tones.

He recognizes the change; the coolness and

strength amaze him.


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