Topic: August Ice | |
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In winter there will be
holes in the street, markers of this August heat that expands asphalt, makes room for ice. Earthworms fry on concrete. Each one that tries to cross fails gracefully. But the nights have changed. The hours after rain are tainted with it, the sense of November’s muffled influence. The grass is distracted. The maple stares out into the horizon. Living things, even as breath is stifled at noon, are lost among black branches, stone clouds, an iced moon. |
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visually stunning write
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visually stunning write ![]() ![]() Thank you, sweets ![]() |
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![]() ![]() Thank you (((1000))) ![]() |
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beautiful
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