Friday, 20 February 2015

The Wind Was Wild...

The wind was wild, she was intent on tearing all the wood asunder. A lonesome bird, the last of his kind, broke through her thrall and plucked the last bloom of summer from a withering stem, a red as rust rose, and flew with her high into the air, above the breaking branches, sending her scent swirling around the wintering wood.

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