Winter Storm In Waiting

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The red sun of the

rising morning

spreads its ruby glow

as an ember still pulsing

with a spark of unforsaken life.

Its velvet fingers reach out

and wake the church's stone steeple,

then creep through the

cracks,

melting between the trees--

a breath, a kiss

from Nature's beating heart.

Behind the silent fire,

Something new is still asleep.

The quiet town is waiting

beneath the winter air.






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