
Blackpine
The last light stays in the shelter window.
People, services and roads across the Meridian Reach.
8 entries · Page 1 of 1

The last light stays in the shelter window.

Reeds whisper beneath the landing boards.

Morning reaches the high valley one roof at a time.

There is good work to be done here.

Fresh cuts shine pale beneath the pines.

The fences run low; the weather runs wide.

Long shadows fall across the freight road.

The samples reach the table before the claims do.