The cold air, has a distinctive aroma.
It is not the smell of the earth when it rains or the dried air when the dust rises.
It is the smell of the cold leaves, frosted and cringing in the thin air.
The mist that settles on it tightens every cell that makes a leaf.
You are blessed with the cold air, circling about and reminding you of the woods that are calling..
Those dark, mighty pines, wavering their heads to match the trajectory of the moonlight.
The blue effervescence clouds my thought process.
I’m left with the artist’s work.

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