drrn

The storm is over and the shelter, no longer needed, is dismantled.
A haphazard exodus to the north, repeated endlessly under a painted sky.
I am a pretty bird. Gossamer circles hung from trees.
Old comrades seen and embraced in the shadow of the new sanctuary.
A long companion tragically sundered and thought destroyed.
A burial halted, the graveyard no longer fit to hold it.
Resurrection. Veneration. Sojourn.
Tiny lights and circles. Thousands of ivory leaves in brown boxes.
Cleansing and rest.



P.S. - There's a plastic alligator piano staring at me and that makes me happy.
Also, Archie's set is awesome and you should look at it and leave it love.