in the morning
2007/12/05 in poems
in the morning
by tanner brockwell
in the morning
the blue winds swept
across the sky
and flurries scatter
then descend
and wakeful dreams
pass the tip
of the edge of morning
and it is cold
and the air is so very sharp
and the dry light snow
is stacked so neat
on the car and steps and roof
and i am cold in the morning air
i am cold so far from my bed
i am cold when i think of dreams
for in my dreams i slept so very well
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