nature poetry
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She never slept; morning simply found her standing at the edge of night while the sky bruised itself into gold.
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Summer leaves the way some loves do: warm on the skin, already fading before you realize it was the last time.
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The ocean lives in her like inheritance—salt, tide, ache, and the pull toward places that feel older than memory.
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A Manitoba storm gathers over the prairie, turning wind, wheat, lightning, and thunder into something almost alive.
Between Bruises & Blooms 