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February Dawn.
Rheumy eyed skies pick up
the chill of dawn,
pull fog draped curtains across
the day's first breath.
A mist edged glow from lamp's
last light softly sweeps the
frost below, and late roused birds
with ice-nipped voice, begin to
stir the air.
Mello Lines
They sing to me. Enjoyed. :D xoxox - slc
Thank you x
Thank you x