River-worn flint holds the first spark when stars wheeled differently above calving ice. Twelve thousand winters have t...
“Bone marked the turn where ice first yielded its crown to wandering lights above the mammoth trails. Ochre now stains the quartz that once caught the raven's cry before Scorpius pulled the sky south.”
“Peat bogs cradle the swan's first call across melting straits when no star anchored the dark. Rivers now carry that cry south through quartz where the old wheel's groove has silted shut.”