Okay so if you ARE reading this you actually bothered.... sorry to tell you that it probably will be a sad, angsty post.... really not even for your sake but more for my own...
The brisk night signals the approaching fall and eventual winter. The fields, once filled with rich amber reeds, are now coated by a deep caramel in the darkness. Clouds drift across this celestial sphere, ever so often hovering as if hesitant at what might be. The clouds sweep across the heavens and I can see the moon for a moment. Moonbeams illuminate the wheat, giving it a eerie golden aura. Several crows that were in the tall grass are suddenly spooked and fly off. The temperature has dropped along with the atmosphere's pressure, promising the soon arrival of the thundering warriors. The wind changes from a slight breeze to howling in the darkness and soon the moon is enveloped by the inky blanket, concealing the stars. The reeds bend and sway, dancing across the landscape.
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