November dawns

October 24, 2011
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A silver mist hangs over the marsh
Where the tall grass grows
The sun peeks out from beneath
The clouds of stainless steel

A small stream of twine
Weaves through the land like thread
Coated by a thin layer of ice
Laced by a strip of frozen mud

Trees rise up like pillars against the sky
Remaining leaves a bed of brown
Blanketed by frost
A fortress of solitude; dawn is my wall





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