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Cyclone

they miss the spirituality of the trees.
the faint whisper of breath in oxygenated
richness, the firm application of smoothness
eloquently divine on the skin's surface. they miss
the impartial breeze hitting blades of chloro-filled
to the brim excitement of buds and the promise of another day.
there's a reminder. a dancing metamorphosis barely
young enough to hold unto the quaint swivel of the bark
inching towards its cocoon, fluttering on the thin line of greatness.
in the blink of an eye dismissed
by smog ridden darkness
electric buzz of cars
and the flight of Starbucks cups
filled to the brim of nothing, caffeinated the rush
go go go, swiftly toes graze over grass
enticingly as elusive engine drones
to forget the brilliance of the sky.

-b.r.rivera
12 if 30, April 2012
#30in30



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