Between Santa Fe and Albuquerque
dust and smoke litter the air
into brownness
soft yellow hues where sunlight is lost
distant fires prompted in wind
rush down weedy arroyos
half size tumbleweeds scurry over asphalt
singed leaves separated from branches
form wind cones in the parking lot
joined by cottonwood fluff
if the soft chaos had been after a pillow fight
there would have been ghosts of laughter
take a deep breath
the scents of spring do linger
for now
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