Morning

		Morning is my favorite time.
		It is my chance to walk the woods,
		to talk to trees, to think in rhyme,
		discover hidden neighborhoods,
		no thought of oughts or musts or shoulds.

		I gather up a day's supply
		of sustenance in green and gray,
		feed my soul and please my eye,
		force myself to turn away,
		emerging then to face the day.

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Path through foggy woods

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