The prompt is anaphora.
Another Orkney Anthem.
Still the wind tugs and tosses the grass back and forth,
Still the waves carry words and tales from the north.
Still the rain patterns windows with mysterious words
Still in runes long forgotten in these harsh modern worlds.
Still the dusk creeps its fingery shadows long and long
Still the seals in the night share their ghostly sad song.
Still the cold of the spring says that winter has won
Still the heralds of summer are born in by the sun.
Still this land that is history, that is sea, sand and stone
Still this land gives a birth to blood, flesh and bone.
(c)2ndwitch
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