The kind of grey
When you know the day
Will bring some sun.
A silver, clear light
A horizon magnified
Close enough to touch
The world laid out
as a map before me
I could go where I please
But I go the same way
Autumn scents load the air
With fruity spice
Fallen leaves in wind blown piles
Thistle-heads droop
They bear the weight of water
I saw a spiraling sparrowhawk
Trailing his burden
of worried pipits
Noisy as they pass
Knowing their enemy
Holding him closer still

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@Idissent thank you so much for reading them, and for telling me that you look forward to them. That's so good to know.

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