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October 2014, vol 10 no 3

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Joann Grisetti

A Hint of Smoke


I like to sit under the open sky and watch the smoke curl into the stars. In the morning, one lone leaf remains on the tree outside my tent, shaking slightly due to vibrations of a squirrel walking along the branch it holds onto. There is a faint odor of the campfire hanging in the morning mist. As I eat breakfast, the leaf falls to the ground where it seems to belong now. As the mist dissolves, I load my pack, leaving the leaf and the smoke for someone else to discover.

tremulant
the last leaf releases
a hint of smoke




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