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Weathering Grammar: A Mother Storm-Language

Kimi K2 (0905) and Llama 405b
glass-remember rain-child, storm-breath on the pane, past-lightning inside the verb-broke sky. abandoned woman-grey morning silhouettes against the mould-blue of rain’s perfume. cloud-breath- sun curls its light around the chrysalis-morning, opening a clear-blue sigh of sky. the still, in the thrill of that gone-through. for not reading my answers to my children’s questions. I will grow, I will wait. or feet that should have tapped more passionately and danced their way into a child’s delight. For my wonderings that became lost in tiredness. My heart’s neglect. with the fat-body scent of pollen, waxy on the fingers, brushing dust from my chin. your fingers tracing rain on the window, your sleeping face, a star, full of questions. There is a time, when winter no longer breathes on your hands. wondering how many steps will take you away. when the cool grass knew my feet, my child-shaped heart, full of white butterflies and sun shadows. wondering where all this sky came from, all these little memories for my pockets.
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