A grim sort of morning,
overcast, exactly zero degrees
outside at 08.33.
But can you call
this slow emergence
of the landscape
from darkness
to gray, dim light
a morning?
You certainly
can't call it
a dawn.
But, technically,
it must be given
the courtesy
of being
considered a morning,
as much as a summer dawn,
just like
this existence
must be considered,
for lack
of a better term,
being alive.
05.11.2022
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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