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  • There above the marshes of my home drifted cotton clouds in in the stretching blue sky.

    Behind them shone the warm sun, penetrating my skin. My mouth wanted water.

    Around the wetland birds dabbled and crickets cricked and wild flowers did their own pretty thing.

    It was summer. I turned my face to the sky, breathed the musky marsh smells and thought;

    "This is what it is to be alive."
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