so a thank you is in order
road rolling beneath me, the fog
is fingerling down green hills
haloed grey
or a hand brushing away
the light or
a wave roiling over to crash
between precarious million-dollar homes
in wet lowlands awaiting draining,
development,
concrete,
ca$h
and gelded trees
wait wet, furtive
in the hollows
breathing the cold breath of the sea
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