the tents sank in the drifting billows;
smoke pouring from atop the hill.
a man stood nearby, wavering.
he blinked hard against the fumes.
a single log fumed from the high ground.
he was embarrassed and unsure.
he could not clear the air by hand.
the other campers would soon wake.
would they panic in the blinding drift?
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A game of words and beauty played out across the intarweb.
1 comment:
Oh no's!
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