I went walking this morning before dawn. The gibbous waning moon was thoughtful behind a thin veil of clouds. A finger of mist hurried by me, seven feet off the ground and not much larger than a family car, but it was on a mission. I took one of my longer routes, but widdershins in lieu of my usual deosil path, then left the path anyway to follow a side trail along the Springwater Corridor. Hiking in the deep dark on an unknown track is always interesting.
In time, dawn began to steal westward on a wider bed of mist. Salmon streaked the sky a while, before a deep, aching blue which had stolen its cobalt from Hephaestian mine. The fields near my house gave up their moisture as the heavens gave up their dark. I stopped amid scolding crows to look at a herd of Deere, then made my way home again.
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