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Jesus Chameleon

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Tenseness on a perfidious but scenic passage

Initially, amazement in the eyes of Arabian warriors by the Red Sea beset my eyes. The sea's parting stuns them. Another parting of the Red Sea, maybe? Some kind of war dance, probably? I'm enticed by the allure of fable and victory, only at first.

A lily sprouting from just behind the bush withers and sojourning past in the flower's wake is a mere poet. Doves gracefully perch themselves on tree branches just above me. The house at the top of the hill awaits the embrace of a weary traveler. The treacherous pathway lined with broken ice is the easiest passageway there. Visions of topographical landscapes dance in my head.

Suddenly! Contemplation wearies me. Approaching warriors on every side of me is not an easy thing, or thought to take. Ever so closer—leaning askance into the stirring crowd—a question forms in my mind. Why doesn't the house just slide lower to join me? Excessive inebriation was advantageous in that remote locale on that day, as the warriors would not be a danger to me due to, of all things, intemperance. Toward the end of the pass, further below my destination, gamboling in merriment, one of the warriors even enthuses about my musing and eventually I get directed on my way by happenstance.

oiled-wet fledglings—
palmy flowers take
on rocky ground

flying south in fall
birds pass
a crashing kite