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  • Bleak grey haze in sky above hills the color of khaki , peaks dappled in light, snow turning quickly to desert sprinkled in green.
    I see the turning of morning and task into flying !up in the air in seconds and minutes!. How it all changes so quickly! and if longing were at light speed
    would love come sooner than later if it came at all ? Would it stay and root itself, grow into something?
    Become ancient and stable as mountain?
    Would one go from light speed to forest to meandering paths that all converge into a confluence of place?
    a burned out Old Growth.
    a Witchy Cairn?
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