Blackbirds cross the setting sun.
A cold wind shakes the corn.
Her hand is warm in mine.
A cold wind shakes the corn.
Her hand is warm in mine.
Rural in Nature, Transcendental in Temperament
Blog Archive
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2014
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October
(33)
- Incantation
- Darkness Over the Bar
- Off Continent
- Relativity
- Where We Started
- Phased
- Asia Minor
- Hero and Leander
- Pelagic
- Off Season Aesthetic
- The Verge
- What the Sea Says
- Further Gone
- Time Catcher
- At Peak
- Next Layer
- The Now and What Will Be
- Death By Snapshot
- Downhill
- One October Morning
- He Waited
- Week of Spells
- Unprecedented
- Finally There Is Only Soaring
- Skywalkers Redux
- In the Shadow of the Earth
- To Stay
- Pause
- First Snow
- After the Rain
- Locus
- October Woods
- Embrace
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October
(33)
