The air is heavy, dripping with moisture.
The heat will follow this day, thickly.
Yet the birds still flit and form low.
Skimming the lake, knowing it cools.
Lazy days, summer will come with heat.
Praise rises in their song and the vapor.
Rising and disappearing, like incense.
Carrying the spring scent of sweetness up.
Hear the prayers of the earth, groaning.
May we find the hope planted in the earth.
Heal our neglect of it, as we heal one another.
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