@prithu
As twilight settles, the whip-poor-will begins its haunting song, repeating its name again and again through the dusk. Hidden in the shadows, rarely seen, it fills the night with mystery. Its voice carries a sense of longing, echoing through quiet woods and forgotten paths. Some say its call is a song of remembrance of things once loved, never forgotten. The whip-poor-will teaches us that even in the stillest hours, the heart finds ways to speak through silence.
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