I love winter tree’s secret body. Listen, in the dark evening to its pure, sweet whisper. A sacred dusk song in a wild bee forest.
Winter Tree
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Stark, white heat scalds a fragrant froth of sage, distilled like lavender in the searing blaze. And it sings loud and alive with honeybees, an electric white noise, like standing, human, at the heart of the hive.
bees, fragrance, sage alley