Wind's yellin at us.
Don't worry, she said. Won't hurt if we don't listen.
Sounds angry, like its claws are hungry?
Can't hurt with our eyes shut; nothins real here, long as you don't stare too long.
Dawn is coming.
Flowers rise.
Moons ebb and fade. Like everything.
Cold wind tore words across cold ground
piling light snow in peaks and hollows
scrawling lyrics in fat snowfall and barren streaks.
Everything, nothing.