our words drifted from
our mouths in white puffs of smoke–
contrails at ground level.
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our words drifted from
our mouths in white puffs of smoke–
contrails at ground level.
the sieve and the sand 
perfectly captured
and for some reason reminds me of standing right here:
http://tinyurl.com/5jdt29
on the first cold of the year
It doesn’t look very frosty there now
i’m sure google took the picture on one of their perfect weather days…
Damn google