E239F squats by the murky pond trailing his twisted toes through the shards of sunlight and fractured ripple. His ease is of the common weave of grass. Close his family clusters, mirrors of him. It is only in the fall that they scar their insignia into the flesh of the heavens, picking up the pieces of broken cloud and returning them to the stubborn southern sky. Farther out in the pond C713 takes a bow and goes under.
pretty good man. I'm guessing it's about geese? Birds anyways... "His ease is of the common weave of grass" beautiful.
