Incantations

With an undulation,
waving her hand on the wind
rushing past,

it is an enchantment.

Her fingers implore the unveiling world
in a rush of
trees and rocks and hills
and acres and acres of wheat,
traveling through time.

And in her mirror,
the horizon slips back
into a crouching
somnolescence,
a dutiful servant
after submitting to her charms.

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