The crows land on a tiled roof.
Stones of the old church are unwelcoming.
Ancient and powerful, the birds call to us. We are ignorant of their language. We quicken our pace.
Clouds disperse into the arms of sunset.
The crows land on a tiled roof.
Stones of the old church are unwelcoming.
Ancient and powerful, the birds call to us. We are ignorant of their language. We quicken our pace.
Clouds disperse into the arms of sunset.
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Thanks, Sue! 🙂
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