It was dark.
Only street lights awake.
The world outside my window glittered.
Fog had stitched rhinestones on the world.
This cold Sunday morning world
of white coated trees and cars,
fences, sidewalks and lost toys;
glitter flaked away
in the spare warmth of the sun
and a drifting wind chill.
Walking with a friend,
along a path away from the city,
thick snow-white glitter still clung
on thick frosted trees curling away
from nature’s brushes.
“What is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt in the sun?”
~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
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