A series of seasons unfolding,
we chase the sun, pray for rain,
year after year—no two the same

in this canyon that sustains us,
trains habits and hones senses
into instincts like horses have,

like the wild wears with first breath
until the last for generations
in the same place—we know

this hard, yet resilient, ground:
clay and decomposing granite
dust mixed like concrete

with green seeds, given rain.
Waiting we become the place
and praise its perseverance.


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