The parched field has given up on thriving.
Drained and brittle grass resigns its height
to flatten, stiff with waiting.
On the outskirts,
one crimson bloom twists and dips
to the rhythm of the seasons changing.
The grasses think her brazen.
They shrink a little lower
in her shadow.
Still, she dances,
raising her grateful face
to meet the blazing kisses of the sun.
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