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Poetry

Misty Morning

The sun fights its way over the mountain,

the morning mists cloaking its radiance,

dispersing the light as the cool

air bites at the skin.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the disk

peaks over the peak,

illuminating the fog with a glow

that seems to come from everywhere

and nowhere at once.

The chill lessens.

Higher climbs the sun, trying to burn away

the cloying clouds hovering

 around the ridge and ravine,

unveiling the natural beauty

hidden in hazy shadows of grey.

A new dawn births, inexorably

bringing light and hope

anew.

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