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Aeolus
I am the tsunami of seasonal storms.
My roots run pine-deep.
While inverted leaves run rampant.
Pricking touch as poisonous as a mushroom.
Sometimes I fall like a flake,
Or pollute with pungent wrath!
I am a vulnerable volcano, just waiting to erupt.
Some days, I glow beautifully like a simmering horizon,
Or smile like the moon pulling tides with just a gaze,
And run as fast a river can.
I am as patient as a bristlecone.
An evergreen, waiting to place my crater on this Earth.
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