Subtle movement in open plains

A wintry blustful lullaby
as the rain has fallen low
creeks all ripple with little prose
windy pebbles in glassy flows,
coldness tender burns my skin
brushing across my face
singing open songs of blue
breezy laughter with no trace,
and crow you craw in darkened tones
that drift through misty waves
covering all the ghostly shadows
that beg from Earthly graves.

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