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Fired soils crack as ancient stoneware.
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Thinning canopy fattens soils.
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▽ | #analog
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Steady rains pass the Equinox.
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Thunderous peal of woodfall.
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Wood-hewn tendons.
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You spend these quiet years unravelling.
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Reclaiming deciduous treescape.
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▽ | #stone
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Scuddy mists sandblast the cottage facade.
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This morning: an ox-eye sky portending an all day sop.
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Flying V's, goose chatter, fighter jets buzzing the skies.
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The parlour folds.
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▽ | #analog
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In the underwood, leaning on a tumble-down cottage swimming in sunlight.
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A sunning wood lay.
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Lungs drought-baked draw dry breaths of dust.
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▽ | #stone
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In the forest an old spruce wracked by Winter's lashings.
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Nuthatches upside-down the trunk of the tallest pine.