Sitting in the dark, listening to the heavy, wet snow slough off the branches of the oaks. There is a steady drip from the trees. It was snowing a little bit ago, but for now it has stopped. I hear the crash of a shed collapsing not too far away. The rooster is calling in the day. His girls remain huddled on their perches, unconvinced.
The Tea Pot
It is a quiet morning, the light still dim. Everything seems calm and muted, even the birdsong heard through the open...
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