Running again along the ruts
Long worn into the limestone hills
My feet falter over a stone I did not see before
But as I look I see
My own skin bleaching white
Instead of darkening under the sun
That does the same to oak trees' leaves
And mesquite in many years
I begin to join what remains
Of sea-borne creatures in ages past
It is no wonder that others think now
To leave me behind
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