It is morning cool and alive. Boundless thresholds restruck by lights discordent shadows. Farming valleys rise with-in taste and aroma of lilting flowers. Governed dinner-bells and farm-boys dance over racing dogs. Toned muscles dip and flash in perennial sets of pricelesss land. Caressing and rendered in vineyards of vision and nobler dream. Mouth and snowmen wax alone in the new frost. Mulberry bushes age their temperate fruit. Other ways bend word and wood to climb a one step ladder. Few voices mix in company these silent gestures; and battle endlessly to forge the lancened sentinel. Quick hours slow with bottled flowers. In time with rest, these plants thicken above the gentlest statue.
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