Pines stand in this world as tall as a lightning strike, usually beneath a dubious sky. They are odiferous and sticky, and much given to sough and birr. The Pine, a tree when it gets to that, regards whimsy with whimsy, and so should you. Barred from distant travel, Pines grab hard the land. Their best trick is the pinecone, also called strobilus for the fun of it. These planetary dainties fall into the category of gymnosperms and can only be released from that name when used decoratively. The Pine is not just a conifer, it is an evergreen, which certainly gives you plenty to think about. Long verdant winters tell the tale for the pine. Its plucky needles perform photosynthesis as easy as kiss my hand. Staunch Pines stand strong thru the seasons, abiding like a plainsong. You would do well to follow their lead.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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