something catches my eye
a field dipped in gold
a radiant Shangri-La
of gilded grasses bending
in a soft breeze
the rising sun paints boldly
in the early morning
for a sleepy-eyed
imagination
I drive by later and see it’s
a stretch of drought-dead
weeds and bushes next to
a channel once used by water
it must have been dawn's holy air
and an obvious desire
for a heavenly visit
to a dying world
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