Two shiny black crows sat in the road. One of them thinking he would prefer to be migratory, free
soaring through thermals, soaring by Plumeria and peace lilies
"It's a winter wonderland! Could you ever tire of this?"
frightened by our car, that crow flew away
the tires thoroughly inflated
me nauseous you thinking of Roscoe rolling his Rs
getting skinnier with age
maintaining superior fluffiness cuddling skills
impressive for a cat
these pictures in reverse colors the beloved negatives of film
baby crying, glass breaking and too many options of candies to choose from
the mother impatiently yells
oh don't start again
one crow was not afraid of the passing car
remaining atop the blanket of diamonds
he made cold footprints and opened and closed his wings
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