When the morning alarm sounds, it is still dark outside my window. Mornings of late are draped in damp fog. The early chill demands a long-sleeved choice from the wardrobe. The interspersed sunny afternoons hearken to the hot summer days, but the twinge of chill tells the truth, the sun arcs too low on the horizon. Summer has waned. The harvest moon of autumn presides.
1 comment:
It's too dark.
Very poetic post, quite lovely.
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