Since then, the crow’s come back every day at sunset. It sits there for exactly an hour, tilting its head this way and that, feathers flashing blue in the fading sunlight.
No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
Since then, the crow’s come back every day at sunset. It sits there for exactly an hour, tilting its head this way and that, feathers flashing blue in the fading sunlight.