Saturday, November 26, 2011
modifier
frost on the leaves of the blackberry brambles, the soft crunch underfoot. pops and crashes from the woods and the fields stand soft behind barbed wire fences. tall thin pines crest the mist. stars blur through cloud cover. someone has built tubs from rocks on the bank and we bask in the sulfur steam that rises off the water. the river is a mirror, it reflects the night.
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