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gardening at nightdusk. naked, i walk into the garden. the sun sleeps in her corner of my universe, the moon is rising and the sky above me is devoid of cloud. the green plastic watering can, abandoned in the far corner of the enclosed garden, is covered in dust. i pick it up and dust off the cobwebs as i fill the can with cold water from a rusty old tap. the concrete slabs are warm beneath my feet - the air smells sweet and close. all is still, peaceful - save for the sound of running water. i look down at my legs stained by the sun's kiss earlier today and gaze up into the night. tiny drops of cold water, in this momentary distraction, spray on my legs as the water level spills over. it feels cool, welcome. my skin is thirsty, like the garden.
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9 refills later... i am all wet.
i stand and drink it in... i love how the garden smells after rain, after watering... the plants seem alive again, their fresh fragrance their vital sign. the pavement is wet beneath my feet as i walk around. the air feels balmy