friend Wind carries seeds
to Earth to grow into trees
Fire killed, need Water
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During the summer when I was 9, I lived a house we rented at the end of a road in Northern California. It was a rental from some weird guy that sang in a band. Their favorite song to sing was that one about the lion sleeping in the jungle. He would sing when he came over to fix things on the house. There were huge pine trees everywhere. Squirrels running and jumping from branch to branch, occasionally bombing you with a pinecone knocked loose. Once a pinecone broke our patio table. Of course, our mom didn’t believe it was not me or my little sister that broke the table.
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