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Replying to a comment on:
Waiting (Free verse) by itchiwitch Ebony skies lighten and blush
to grow fiery red
over night-dreaming hills.
The dark, ragged clusters
of gossipping trees
appear on the ridges
and emerge from the seas of
the moon-coloured mists in the valleys.
Black hills will soon
be sunkissed green.
The honey of birdsong will soon be released
by the great, golden traveller
on his daily run.
Lets welcome him back.
Lets welcome the sun.
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