Winter Pt. 1

Bright birds, calling into the night.

Voices rising above the din.

Over the dreary hum of sleepy machines.

Were it not for your waking warble

I would find myself lulled to sleep

nestled in a pocket of warmth

deep in a moment of time

before I must open my eyes,

rise,

and move with resignation at the appropriate pace

in measured steps

towards an unbearable cold.

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