Here's one from Darcie Patterson from Chiwrimo
I’m finally acclimated to the washed-out browns of the tall grasses and brilliant blues of the big sky. Where Tio’s at, all the colors seem both more and less real at the same time.
Da’ sits out on the patio with me, leg crossed and fidgeting.
Cross-uncross-crossing his leg, he studiously avoids eye contact. He thinks I’m angry — for bringing me here to keep me safe instead of sticking it out there in faerie.
He lights a cigarette, cupping his hands around his mouth to block out the dry-grass wind. “Gonna rain tomorrow.” He says softly.