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Weekly Contest #287
I peered from my garden, over the soft roof of my modest home, through the faint woodsmoke pillar which rose from the chimney, and unto the eastern hills. Everyday did Sun rise over those gentle prominences, that lightbringer which in resplendent Summer engorges unending seas of foliage and which in aphotic Winter gives rest to darkness and makes prisms of ice and snow. Yet, never have any explorations nor necessities led onto their terraced slopes. What vegetables might be dug from their untouched soils? What leaf medicines might be meekly ...
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