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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2326848
Even in the silent beauty of winter, nature moves on.
Early on a January morning
I crept from under my covers
curious to see the snow that fell
while I chased now forgotten dreams.

A gleaming sunrise
broke across the white-tipped trees
casting golden rays over the fields.

The only signs of life
were the footprints of a red fox

and tiny squirrel tracks
that vanished

into the crisp dawn air.
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