I know it will be one of those cold, clear nights. Crystalline.
Beneath, a plant with wide, awkward leaves – probably a weed – looks like folds of lace over silk.
…hinting only faintly of mauve beneath the silver and white where, earlier today, they were imperial purple: a wine-dark colour thick and heavy enough to drown in.
The bare tree branches spike upwards like long black thorns. The clouds rip and tear themselves ragged as they force themselves on: rank upon rank of tattered monsters hunting each other across the sky.
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