The sun low

cold stretches it’s fingers across the land

Creeping deep down into the earth

silence descends.

Above ground Trees stand naked now

As winter settles in

Crisp air and indigo skies.

Darkness early in the afternoon

drifts rain in misty swirls

glinting streetlights shine out of puddles

and people hurry home

It is a time of fires and stories.

low slow quiet still
Wooden arms December

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