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maybe there’s room
for the wind to fit somewhere.
It used to usher clouds overhead,
and sometimes a few of them would open.
First, birds arriving and lining up on branches.
Then the rain. We Paint the Rocks Blue by Rob Carney, excerpt
maybe there’s room
for the wind to fit somewhere.
It used to usher clouds overhead,
and sometimes a few of them would open.
First, birds arriving and lining up on branches.
Then the rain. We Paint the Rocks Blue by Rob Carney, excerpt