well
A stone polygon sat in a moss forest. It was built from rounded rocks and glued like the fences that still tried to border the outgrown farmland. It rose into the thick morning that would not stop painting dew onto the eyes to make these visions more difficult to remember. The formation was covered in several dozen blankets that were woolen and tattered but warm, they seemed so heavy but one night they rose vaguely as the inhabitants climbed out. The last ones wore old clothes, I think, and farmed the moss beds and watched the clouds that were waving and coughing because the air was green now too. It gave into the moss & decided to hide all the things that could have waited for them instead of dissolving.