Webs and Goldenrod

There are secrets on the trail
Quiet and subdued
A certain color
Or refraction of light
A specific scent
Sent to trigger memories

It looks like dirt
Or dead leaves
Stagnant water waiting
For the rush beyond
The strength to withstand
Revealing old newness

All those things
In us
About us
Through us
What we are
What we are to become

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