rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The north unleashes gusts of wind, and the tall, supple pines bend and sway. Frenzied silhouettes of branches thrash evening's deepening blue sky, while sunset flames the horizon's long, shallow arc. Scant minutes earlier, the placid air was held breathless by a soaring hawk, whose outstretched wings were the embodiment of dynamic repose. So sudden was the transformation from calm to turmoil, that it seemed almost as though the bird's wings, moved at last to speed its departure, had set this fury loose, the beaten air thrust into sympathetic flight, and then was day drawn down to night as if fainting at the sight of such wonders.

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