Locking eyes with the nomadic sun
I long to be native again.
Santa Ana winds blowing fire through the palms
...
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Lori, I enjoyed this reflective write - some lovely imagery too. Kind regards, Justine
I miss my old California days... an innocence that you have captured. Reminiscing about the Santa Ana wind storms just yesterday: oh, the sight of the tumble weeds racing in the field across the street, in our front yard -! Back to the poem: Magic. Thank you!