Fall Runes | Ralph Monday

For nine days a Bradford leaf hung from a single spider filament, slowly turning like seasons on an axis. Suspended like Woden on Yggdrasil it too, speared, spoke in autumnal runes. Yesterday, gravity induced piercings, the rains came; tattooed anecdotes, transparent crayon sketches, filtered down through yet green branches. They packed an old narrative. The …

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