morning air

when the sky looks like a thin mist

bright blue mixed with clouds from another world

when music seems to hang on the air

and everything is vibrant, as if truly deeply more real than what reality is

when the chill of the air brings excitement 

dancing to become warm

hands in pockets

running in place

bringing arms in to hug the sides of bodies

hot air coming from mouths and noses

turning to the curling mist visible at the horizon 

chill that touches the back of eyelids eyelashes

when the crispness of morning awakens 

the eyes that look up to see the newness the oldness the solidness the opacity 

and trailing melody drifting into distant mountains 

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