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Early morning sunrise streams in from behind cracked curtains and I see him.
I see him walk out in the snow to the shed, his jacket too thin for the bitter cold, his worn boots unlaced where underneath his heels broke free, and his socks were worn holey.
He hadn't eaten breakfast.
He didn't make his lunch.
I knew better than to ask if he had brushed his teeth because I already knew the answer. After ten years you know the answer.
November flings its door open in a show of cold and color and speaks the creators amazing beauty.
There's a chill in the air, a hop in the tired step, and a hope in the heart that longs to draw near to a certain, calling peace.
A peace that the season slowly but hurriedly inches closer to that rings joy and good tidings, but for now pumpkin seeds and spiced coffee and bags of candy that spark buds and leaves that crackle and logs that burn from a nearby pit, it all blows
Updated 12-14-2014 at 03:02 AM by Bonnie Fair