The forest is everywhere.
A fallen fir tree, embossed in moss.
Right there a tiny green woodsorrel leaf sprouts up.
So delicate.
When the squirrel springs from a branch,
My heart dips as if I was its swing.
TheWatchedPot
TheWatchedPot
The forest is everywhere.
A fallen fir tree, embossed in moss.
Right there a tiny green woodsorrel leaf sprouts up.
So delicate.
When the squirrel springs from a branch,
My heart dips as if I was its swing.
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