WEATHER »

Cruxis

Lambs blood on every stone and no way down: hushed the slopes and steep

the climb

where every sinew strains and twice the will and burdens fall away lest we lose the hill.

Up or down it hardly matters, climb or fall, by and by the air is filled with laughter

and the call

of feathered things and heroes of the air and golden women spinning shawls of

orphans hair.

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