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Storm Catch, Desert Watch

Driving behind a storm, the world seems water soluble, No either-or divisible but a weather of mergers. Juniper, cedar, sage, and a welter of range grasses wade In air where the small, chill smell of resin is autumn Amber spun on swollen winds of summer. Curled footprints Of a squall are marked with quick splashes, the way A coyote flashes bristling in a car's lights, then Whistles off, a breath puffed through a tight sandstone Cleft. At last what's left is the desert scent, though Swept up and misspent, bright coin from dust's

bone hand.

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