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Posted

chiang mai rainy season sonnet

please come to me, be my green;

rain's waiting, the sweet lady frogs

wait for croaking contests to begin,

earth's still wet, still a little thirsty

come and be my clouds of a sky,

be playful winds painting shapes;

shift slowly from vibrance to grey,

enough times to feel time's weight

memories of patterns made in air

are the leaves of your tree; down

at your roots forgetting happens,

but nothing's lost to a deep dark

now come, be my green, please,

while stillness still is still possible

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