Prompt: December
Awaiting the days they would return, dancing past the mountains and in the flowing grasses. Harbringers of joy, each and every one carrying a tintillating scent of clean freedom. They gracefully alight atop the houses, playing to their audience's loves. Floating across the fields, they do not harken to symphonies, rather symphonies perform in their honor. The crowd will cheer as they arrive, and shed tears at their departure - awaiting the day in which they will return. Awaiting December.
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