Quiet, graceful morning moon.

Frost crystallizes on the windows—

a pattern no artist could recreate.

I can see your breath,

can you see mine?

Chimneys to create clouds of white,

disappearing into starry night.

Time will pass by too fleeting,

while soul and body warm by fire talk.

I hope the moon is there in the morn,

peacefully greeting the sun.

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Editor: Rachel Nussbaum

Photo: Hartwig HKD/Flickr