The pea-blooms lingered long that year. The sun, warm from languid days turned and became pale, silent and crisp. Some glow was left in September and it caressed the flowers, their petals flourished and clung to fingertips that called on them. Days clocked on, and mists curled across the land with a darkening intensity, leaving leaves burnished and bronze, and the peas clutched ever closer to their house of wires. They remained the last stand of summer.
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