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Crawl, Summer.

hollowed out as a shell
she waits bravely for harvest
without the spirit for telling tales
glazed
hunched over
howling
from the peak
out upon the open wind
a song
echoing
steady and long since lost
that cuts like a scythe through tall barley
as the fog dresses the summits
enveloping
hiding her many truths
hard as acorn seeds
deep in the barren soil
ImperfectedStone
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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