The Trees Are Bare

the trees are bare;
as though there were no parent prompting to grab a coat 
the skies are blue;
they’re fond of the sea, lost in oceans of emotion
the air is cold while the sun is out,
temperature betrays the climate; 
far too cold to submit to the longing warmth
the range of goosebumps along my arms
 live vicariously through the snowcaps witnessed in the distance
the morning is still,
waiting for the right time to make its move
there’s a light breeze through my environment, 
gently presenting a harsher condition


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