Spontaneous Writing

[ruhdwulf]

The wind is a mountain of cold. The trees bend before it and form circles to resist. Tiny pieces of grit are sharp against my face and I think of the Earth being scoured clean and cleansed by wind. I am soured and cleansed. Polished like stone.

Comments

[ex_redrain]

I am glad to see you posting again!

[wicapis]

very nice to read you again.

[anonymous]

glad to see you back, too.~paul

[poetbear]

glad to see you back, too.~paul

[cianxylona]

OH!!