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Post by Don Schaeffer on Apr 16, 2012 8:28:48 GMT -5
We sit in the back against the forest in April at the border of Spring. She is still sad as the dusk gathers and will probably remain so. I watch the filaments in the trees get finer, uncountable threads of shadow, nets of shadow, lace, and the catching webs of vine, thinner and finer until we fall into darkness.
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