There is a too much-muchness/
Like a slow burning not-enoughness/
Dreams of gates that invite but air/
Of fires that end the world.

A friend of mine was playing with my Olivetti 22, and created the below prompt, to which I wrote a response…
World-feeling minted by social currency/
Planet-wide zeitgeist - unreality generality/
Shifting dusty scree on Plains Arcadia/
Where bedrock truths emerge from the melee

He was dying. There was something in the Primavera, the spirit of sentience given each and every member of the kinfolk, that told him that this season would be his last snowfall. He did not mind, having had lived. Yet - his body was ready; but his mind was not.

A setting that I often write stories in. Hexgrove is a mid-magic, pastoral setting with anthropomorphic UK woodland animals and clockwork tech. The Six Groves are a landscape of woods, swamps, heath, mountains and hills dotted with sources of magic called Hexgroves. In these clearings whose origins are unclear, strange six-petalled flowers bloom, providing a magic that causes animals of the Six Groves - mammals, many larger birds, some amphibians - sentience, the ability to speak to each other, hands and opposable thumbs to enable tool usage.

By verdurous shade of aspen grove / Close clone trunks and golden boughs / Whorls that see and bark that hears / Winter mana for elk and deer