Morning wakes as day
unravels the darkness.
Sunrays peek through
the trees that etch patterns
on the earth's carpet.
Listening to the dawn's
ancient chorus, making
sounds it has made since
the beginning of time.
The misty sun climbs
the mountain.
Wind blowing across
the valley, letting its
icy fingers caress
the grass.
A tree bares its soul,
showing its nakedness.
Leafless branches
reaching out,
moving with the wind,
letting the last leaf fall,
it balances itself on a gust
of wind, not wanting
to join the rest of them
on the ground.
A wild horse nuzzles the leaf
as it lands in the pile
before him.
He lifts his head high,
snorts and braces himself
for the oncoming glow of winter.
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