weather from the northrocks cliffs morning breaks with the waves white the sky empty waiting for weather from the north the last of a bright sun followed by years of cloud horizon to horizon a gray cotton sheath a dressing for a wound the voices the wind the notes filled the baritone waves the chorus the seabirds the last of the sun the bulb of the planet its fragile glass sucked of air evacuated the sea boils the birds explode the rocks are as they always are the rocks survive even the giants' feet the deep sounds of their footsteps of drums slowly marching with sabers and axes and whatever else is needed to render flesh to useful things like soap and leather as the giants of wicker filled with men and women start to burn and men and women watching from the cliffs the sea are listening to their cries confusing them with seabirds and with children changing them to music only music as the voices sing again welcoming the clouds this time welcoming the blanket made of smoke and silence | |
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