Got a message from the pre-heat-dome sky
Just now, as I alit for a moment
Pausing to feel
Not meaning to be trite
But doing what all old farmers do,
And turn my head, sniff the sky, search it too,
I was on the front porch, east to the lake.
The west wind came right up, blowing my greys
And as I came in to fix a bit of dinner,
The light from the west called me back to the
Door out into my gardens,
The soon-solstice sky that I saw and felt
Already coloring lush this vesper
Lovely, harbinger of solstice.
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