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Behind the hills, water flows freely
Drank by tired pastoralists
And more by thirsty cows
In the city, they sell water
In packaged bottles
Gulped by travellers
For a prompt, The Heights of Haiku Challenge
We are at this moment, fellow pilgrim, treading on the boulders of this hill upon weathered rocks and rotting roots to smell a whiff of nature’s scent or to spot footprints on molten lava.
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Echoes of the Hills is all about you. I would love to hear your echo...