a pile of granite ghosts...worn by seasons...heavy with stories of winters past...the sky with clouds in entangled dance...
chased by a darkening sky...a crow call...sharp and alone...cuts through the hush as twilight descends...a glow of light...low beneath the iridescent clouds...spring...
a whisper beneath the snow's cold grip... holds the promise of resurrection...life awaits...with the silent aggregate... |
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