In the early morning light, the Silver Birch stands apart - pale and still, like a ghost from long ago. Sheltered from the British storms in the glade that it’s inhabited for untold years. It is no more than a memory now - just a ghost of the woodlands past.
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In the early morning light, the Silver Birch stands apart - pale and still, like a ghost from long ago. Sheltered from the British storms in the glade that it’s inhabited for untold years. It is no more than a memory now - just a ghost of the woodlands past.
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