Soft Morning Fog

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It is a chill windy morning

Between the east Kentucky hills

The faint, barely there scent of a looming storm

Mixes with the heavy maple notes

Wafting from the main street diner

The sun has risen somewhere

But she is unseen

Still concealed by the mountains

Or veiled by the whispery morning fog

I am walking to work

When I walk out at the end of the day,

This world will have changed again

I linger

I take in the quiet morning

I appreciate it.

Then I walk inside.

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