Brisk, crisp, breeze fights and finds its way into my eyes.
A rough brown mug, bitter steam rising.
The land lays washed in night.
The last wild darkness.
Breath misting,
twisting away
distantly
time
unwinds.
Clouds ablaze
morning crawling
through them, light
leaking in around the last of
the soft night. The sun comes now
across the broad slope, relieving the heat of the east.
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