After the years when the hills burned,
when the air itself was a punishment,
when the season leaned in close
just to see if we’d flinch.
We were owed this.
And yet — thank you.
Dog Day
After the years when the hills burned,
when the air itself was a punishment,
when the season leaned in close
just to see if we’d flinch.
We were owed this.
And yet — thank you.
