When a group of lions gather together and sitting,
shake their perfect golden manes up at the sweltering sun And melt like butter into the short rustling grasses And the wind is not too sharp and not rushed, but trickles in a gentle way Then it is summer - hot and full and burgeoning with the promise of fire. They will speak in one voice, “We are here, together Those of us who remain. Gold and unapologetic and immovable. Sacred and untouchable Under this unmistakeable sky.
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April 2023
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