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Mud and sand is sifted through
My careful open hands.
Another plane revealed.
A layer of onion skin I peeled.
Where the sun was my contendor
Beating down upon my brow.
On the horizon you sat waiting
Engulfed in red and orange.
Desolate, I held you close.
Parched, I drank you in.

Published inPhotographyWriting

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