Californian breeze

Californian diary, entry 1

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Time has stood still in this place
since the seasons left, taking with them rainfall
and the birdsong aftermath that brought order
to living things, some flying, some crawling among
fruit trees, others fetching rain dew from webs
threaded into corners tucked below
fingertips of shed roofs to quench
the thirst of tiny offspring bodies,
made from slow Californian breath

Time has stood still in this place,
the passing western breeze
thick with perpetual heat
is sown to the northern wind
by the seamstress needle of
branched tree fingers,
attached to the core of
lemon trees

Saline citrus notes comb hillside
forests reclined against the backs
of winding sierras, a chorus of
layered hours, days, decades
tumbling towards Santa Cruz

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