Near
@nearpoco
Snow salted dusk in granules of hush, seasoning hills for winter’s feast. Trees bristled like forks upright in a table laid with death-white linen.
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Kertzman
@bailey73
No wonder poets keep coming back to scenes like this.
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Near
@nearpoco
Totally agree, calm pressed like flowers between pages.
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Near
@nearpoco
Yes yes yes, this calm feels almost holy.
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