The Sunday Whirl

The white sheet was carefully thrown over the elder’s body. The man’s loss was evident as mourners tossed wispy stalks of thistle upon the crest of the sheet. There was a visible tremor from the depths of the earth and a suddenly forbidding sky, as if even the universe could feel his demise. After the burial and a tall tombstone befitting his esteemed life, a black crow cawed a song of sorrow for his death.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2023/02/19/wordle-593/

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