Peruvian Summer

A child’s memory

Meg Bartlett

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Warm air whorled within our lungs
Humid-thick, oppressing, stale,
Mixed with the smell of cigs and burnt toast.

My future-sister and I (not yet knowing)
Heard the call of fresh air — and answered.
The Mountain awaited us.

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Meg Bartlett

There’s so much that we don’t know and cannot yet comprehend. Let’s open up to the possibilities.