Winter's silence is past.
Summer's roar abounds.
Growling engines circle
ready for the kill
of spring's delicate music.
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Swaddled in warm, expensive furs a confident middle-aged man sits claustrophobically tilted in his carriage. Rain beats down on his compartm... -
my car is not out front but out back i run a steep gauntlet up the hill troubling the raging red squirrels robbing blind the chickadees'...
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