Gunnison

Gossamer clouds cling to the slate greys and marble of the hills and pines on my alluring mountain. Droplets of rain cling to my tanned skin, blonde hair, and long lashes. My vertebrae shudder as I gaze at this moonstone chapel. Here, I feel small but significant, a fragment of rosy glass in the collective mosaic in the midst of old earth’s masses. ——— Abby Van Kirk is a student

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