lying on the rough grass of early spring
we squint in the cloud-dappled sunlight
and peer over the edge of a cliff, unafraid
our faces resting on palms so far above
the bottom of a valley and the creekbeds below
and when it's time to get up and climb back down
i want more than anything to remain
lying here between two crisp worlds
at the edge of a cliff in windy sunshine
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