Two weeks,
I spray for the coming storm.
Three weeks,
I launch into a ominous tirade.
Four weeks,
I might bring myself some tea.
Five weeks,
I gain traction into some sight.
Six weeks,
I dance my way through the night.
Seven weeks,
I plant a garden full of life.
Eight weeks,
I work, over and again.
Nine weeks,
I begin again, fresh and new.
No weeks.
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