September Bus Stop MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Six forty-two a.m.,

The sun peeks over the horizon.

Pastel pinks and yellows flood reds and golds of autumn leaves.

Down in the valley, woods fade into fog:

Has a lone cloud fallen out of the sky?

Blue sky is interrupted only by a pale circle of moon,

Its solemn face wondering at the world.

An old Earth is enlightened by a new day.

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i love this so much!


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