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Leaning into it day after ever-so-long day, it knows the corner like fast friend. Tho' safe and sound in angular embrace, its patience wears thin as the trill of robins renews and the last icy white vestiges of winter fade in concert with the warming sun. Itself a part of the awakening all around, smooth, weathered, and seasoned by the virtue of years, the stick is eager.
But more so the hunter.
But more so the hunter.