The blue so sharp it painfully purifies the eye
as if frost fell from the nights own angels lost and hopeful
On the damp frosty clear morning
The air full of glory, a crispy clasp
Frost slowly melting into dew
glinting off the blades of long grass
The river's brown swerving currents
hiding fish and algae, the rocky noughts
grass grain heads dipping in
and bouncing out of the water
The dry cold land inviting
soothing and haunted
unlocked and empty
Yet fertile and patient
It was mine all mine
My domain to plant what I desire
The high mountain looking down
though encouraging to the point to inspire
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