when the wind quiets down
there is a vast stillness all around.
some very distant sounds
of a crow or a car -
tiny streaks on
an wide empty blue canvas
from the hilltop
far away horizons, timeless
and silent.
mid-February sun begins
to warm up the world
stirring up fragrances of soil and grass
there is a promise
not only of spring
but also of something much larger
that my little brain can't grasp
something too huge to take in
something wonderful
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